Chronicles of a Rah II: Auburn Leaves of Autumn
by Shinwolf
Summary: To anyone who has followed CoaR II closely, please read my note on the end...
1. The Past

To Mikhail

Without you, my love, this story and I would have been lost forever.

** Chronicles of a Rah Book II: Auburn Leaves of Autumn**

"Yet each man kills the thing he loves,  
By each let this be heard,  
Some do it with a bitter look,  
Some with a flattering word,  
The koward does it with a kiss,  
The brave man with a sword!"   
-_Oscar Wilde, The Ballad of Reading Gaol_

Part 1: The Past 

** 1**

To the kitten, whose feet had only been recently exposed to the wear and tear of the outside world, every step was a pain, every hop a torture. His fur was untidy, caked with mud, and what had once been a face full of innocence and joy was now downcast even as he moved on his own accord with the courage few rabbits possessed.

He looked up with unease at the dark environment. Why they had to go through here he was unsure, though in his usual good-natured way he did not dare ask. The trees were large and seemed vindictive, a far change from the few but forbearing ones back in his home in Primrose-rah.

Primrose-rah. The name had lost most of its meaning now, in the past few days he'd been on the move, as he'd turned it over and over his young mind in a fragile attempt to recreate the past. Primrose-rah, with its sunshine and grass, and the sloped sides of the hollowed-out hill where he and his young playmates had in one-too-many times stumbled down with glee. Primrose-rah, with the sullen but pleasant faces of the many elders, the gruff yet gentle officers, the maternal gaze of the does. Primrose-rah, where he'd heard them swore Frith never set, where the burrows were warm and caring, where in one his mother lay, concerned for them, perhaps unknowing of the pain he was going through now…

How he would have loved to have her soft tongue caress his weary body and smooth his ruffled fur. If it was up to him alone he would have never gone out here, but his sister had insisted, and he loved his sister, and to him what was right to his sister had always been a proper thing. Now he looked her way, her grey face, in many ways similar to his own father, stricken with determination, and he knew he'd rather be here to protect her than anything else.

"Aw' we faw'?" he asked, one eye on his sister, the other on a small reddish leaf floating across the air as a sign of the season. He got a sigh for an answer, and confused, he sat on his hind legs and raised his paws in usual rabbit-fashion.

"We don't know, Ebony left earlier," came a reply. He turned to the left and flicked his ears backwards at the rabbit who just spoke. It was the young buck, but to his eyes, older than anything, Ulézenhyze, his soft eyes gazing down at him in a look gentler than he'd ever been given in his life.

One question rang in his head now, and he voiced it aloud after a moment's pondering. "Why?"

Ulé shrugged. To the buck, young but almost an adult at four months of age, Ebony the Crow's departure had foretold doom. He did not know where the thought came from, and he hadn't done anything to incite it, but it was there, like a cloud, hanging over him. He'd never thought of himself as anything of a seer…only seers, in his opinion, felt this way…and he chided himself for thinking such things, but it never left his mind.

He'd never wanted to go out here in the first place. It was indeed, to be sure, a noble thing, one that, if all the scolding by the elder rabbits had passed, would be praised dearly, but he'd never thought of himself as the noble kind, either. It was something princes were meant to do, not ordinary rabbits like him. Princes like the one he knew he was going to see, to make sure he was okay…

Prince Timothy. The name sent stabs of anger in his heart, even as he tried to prevent himself from feeling that way. The rabbit of his age have never done anything wrong to him, except perhaps steal all chances from him concerning Hop, which, every time he thought about it, was second to none. Hop was a beautiful doe. Too beautiful to notice a mediocre buck such as him. Being an officer's son often held privileges, but those were nothing now. He was a weakling, he could die fighting for her, especially with such rivals as the strong Timothy, and he would, but he was no fool, to die for her needlessly, when it had been possible that she had never set her eyes upon him _that_ way.

Yet he went out here. He'd told himself it was for the two kittens that had gone off into an unknown world to stumble after their father's footprints in order to make sure he was safe, little as their presence might do to a mighty Chief such as he, but no, he knew in his heart it wasn't. It was to make sure that Timothy…dear Timothy…was safe for Hop, that he may come back alive, if he, Ulézenhyze, could do anything about it, that her face might alight with joy even if it wasn't for him but for _him._

"Uwé's dwiftin' off 'gain."

He turned to smile at the kitten, though it was the thing he didn't want to do at the moment. Smiling was reserved for happy times. "I'm not, dear."

"I wanna' thee Tim fight. 'E gonna' fight, won't he?" The kitten cocked his head at him, his ears flopping about in a comical manner. He could not help but chuckle at the spectacle.

"Of course he'll!" the kitten's sister Autumn replied, indignantly, and for that moment he painfully realized how deserving Timothy was of Hop's adoration…and love, where he wasn't, was never. "Tim's a good fighter. But Dad's a better fighter. He could kick Tim's butt _any_ time."

He found himself grinning at the two kittens. "Now, now, let's hush down for a minute so we can hear any _elil_ if they're about."

Autumn pawed his shoulder. "Y'don't think that _homba _is still after us?"

He didn't want to make her worry, but it was inevitable, the knowledge of _elil_, and to be aware of them meant being alive. "Maybe, Autumn, but if it is then we can smell them." Foxes always had the worst scent among the _elil_.

"'Ope Eb'ny comes back." The male kitten wiped his muzzle with both tiny paws and gave a deep sigh.

He shook his head. "I hope so too," he said, though his heart was not into it. He'd always been wary around the crow. After the same creature had attacked him earlier in his life he wasn't too sure whether they could really trust him. Anyway, why'd he leave, if he was so trustworthy? He could not understand why Ghost and his Owsla put so much faith in something near the likes of an _elil_.

"Les' go, more walk, less talk!" Autumn's voice was as excited as it was afraid. He nudged her shoulder and hopped beside her. Despite the mud on his paws and the grime on his coat, and the weariness which he was sure he'd sleep through the moment he was safe in his own burrow, the day was pleasant. If it went on this journey wouldn't have been half so bad as he'd earlier thought.

"Can I thay a po'me?" the buck kitten asked.

He grinned. "Won't hurt."

With his young voice brimming with pride, the kitten told his poem, his voice barely coherent in its youth and the echo of the forest air.

"Oi' y'thinkin' thouthan'!

Ya' bawk an' thcratch all day!

My 'eawt go'n bath'n a wivew!

An' leave'n me on m'way!

I dun' th'pothe yow' ma wathed ye',

Ow' ya' wonna' thinkin' tho!

I 'ope ya' jus' twy gwoomin',

An' let yon' flowewth gwow!"

"Did you make that?" Ulézenhyze asked, even as he tried to conjure half of the poem's meaning. The kitten nodded.

"Thumn' 'elped me o' couthe," he said, and Ulé could see him beam proudly at his grey-furred sister.

His sister smiled back. "Of course."

By that moment he blinked and looked up as streams of light, which, as a firm believer in Frith, he found to be a good omen, appeared up front, beyond the thick undergrowth that blocked it. He knew it was the wood's edge. Or it appeared to be. Motioning for the two kittens to stay, knowing how well dangerous things were if it was indeed the place they were looking for, he poked his head into the brush and gasped.

Rabbits. Piles of them. He'd looked up afar at first, and saw dead bodies. Nearer was a group of live ones, a few clustered together. He thought their positions strange for a few moments before he recognized one of the rabbits…Timothy, with his dark fur and eyes flaring with fury. He was surrounded by a group of other rabbits, and, turning his gaze up at the familiar grey rabbit whose blue eyes were as piercing as daylight itself, he began to see what was happening.

A rabbit of unfamiliar scent and features stood between Timothy and his Chief, his fury as unmasked as both _Rahil_, even as he spoke in a subdued voice. "In exchange for your troops' withdrawal and your life?"

Ulézenhyze blinked, realizing what was happening.

No. _No._ The Chief _can't_ die. How could Ghost be so foolish to give up his life…for Timothy? No. The warren needed him, not Timothy. _But Hop needs Timothy, not Ghost._ He shook his head. He loses, either way. Everything depended on the Chief's words. _Everything_.

"Yes. Let him go."

_ No…_

But would he really have been happy if Timothy had died?

Perhaps. The selfish part of him, the one that wanted Hop badly, felt this way. But then his unceasing kindness, the one which caused him to be weak, yielding even to the softest of blows, knew he would never be. It was the part of him that admired Hop even as he knew she would never be his, as he would never be hers, and when he'd accepted that all that remained was ceaseless love by which he knew her sadness would always be his own. Maybe this was better.

Maybe…

"Chief," he whispered raggedly, below his breath.

"What's wrong, Ulé?" Autumn's voice was clear, innocent, a reminder of the task she'd said they'd do once they were here, and he looked back at her with his eyebrows furrowed.

He didn't want to lie. But lie, he must, and so he said, "Nothing, dear, nothing." But in the background came a Captain's endless protests, and what he realized was Timothy's crying…

Timothy was sobbing.

And even as the realization dawned on him he could see that Autumn did not for once believe his words, for without warning she leaped from the bush, missing his claws by an inch. And he screamed, one long, piercing shriek, as without thought she leaped into the path of the enemy's claws as they came down upon their Chief's inert body.

He failed, twice, for another shriek, softer this time, sounded through the air, and he turned to see Nightshade shivering beside him, knowing what he knew. She was dead. Talking with them for a moment, but now dead, and his past began to haunt him again, the shrieks from his brothers and sisters as their suddenly mad mother tore their lives from them, an endless wheel of life and death, life and death, circling around his confused head.

And Nightshade, Nightshade knew, oh Frith, how he knew, for he was not so young as to not know death, yet he was young enough not to fully understand it, that the details were still hazy in his faltering mind as he shook without control. She would not be back. She was gone. Why? They were one, he and she, and to break them apart was to shatter the world into tiny, incomprehensible pieces…

But he was a kitten. And like a kitten, he clung to a single belief, that she could _not_ be dead, that somehow, by some work of magic or miracle, the way Elahrairah could look a fox in the eyes and drive it off as a snake would, she would rise, that it was all just a dream, just a bad, bad dream, like the one he had where the field had all dried up and there was nothing, no milk, no edible grass, nothing. He'd thought it was real then, and thought that maybe it wasn't real now…

That night, what had been a young and innocent creature was tainted by shattered reality and visions of yellow grass, scrunching beneath the feet of someone as wilted as they were.


	2. 

**2**

Life in Primrose-rah was easy as before, as autumn once again drew near, and the young, year-old buck, his eyes full of sorrow such as most youth should never have, gazed up the horizon with his heart full of regret and suffering.

Frith, it had been a year. He'd thought of many things and grew wise from them, so wise that many rabbits his own age avoided him, saying he was nothing but a nutshell full of blabbering nonsense, though in his head he'd never said anything not worth listening to. "Oh that Nightshade, won't join the Owsla even if he's got the size for it…" and he'd go and tell them that he'd never believed in fighting or bullying, as his sister had before him, but they'd _laugh_ and say how stupid he was, as they had in the other thousands of times they'd done so. And the young does all neglected his advances that month before, when the mating season had come, saying they didn't like bucks that "lived in the past" and he'd been too nice to bother using his father's power to dominate them, so now most of them had litters, and none of them were his.

Wise, yet lonely. And it wouldn't have mattered much if _she_ was there, but she wasn't, and his mother had long lost most interest in him as her new litter came, and his father and older brother had always been too busy to pay him much notice. He blinked and for a moment, forgot all his troubles as he admired the orange hue that wafted from the rising Frith, and a smile played across his lips as it hadn't done for some time now, his soul for once glad he was alive. But it passed soon, like all the brief instances where he had been happy, and he was back where he began.

"I am worried about you."

He turned at the familiar voice, and his eyes softened a bit as Willow gazed at him with her hazel eyes, which he hadn't seen ever since her new litter had been born. It was now that he realized how truly his mother loved him, though her attentions were elsewhere, so he shook his head and replied, "Don't. I'm quite alright. How are the kittens?"

"They are fine, but don't try to change the subject, my son." Her gaze was regal, though still gentle in its queenly state. He found it hard to believe their stories that not long ago she was the shyest one among the does. He found her touch to be as soothing as ever as she nudged his shoulder with her nose, and spoke before he replied, "I've heard Corn mention what she heard from some of the younger does, and it wasn't good."

"It's nothing…" And he tried to turn his head away, but she would not let him.

"It is everything, to me."

He wanted to say, "You wouldn't understand," but it would be so untrue, for she _ would_, only he had nothing else to say, for his mind was puzzled, and his heart even so, and his problem so simple that explaining it was the hardest thing to do.

"Can you tell me that story, please?"

He was surprised at his own voice, and in the deep recesses of his mind, hoped no one would mind him asking for story from his own mother like a kitten would ask for milk. And he was more surprised, though he knew he shouldn't be, as his mother nodded, and spoke in a voice he was familiar with long, long ago, when he was younger and the world was in the right place.

"In the early days, Elahrairah's warren prospered as they have never prospered before, and the grass was thick, and all his mates and children and their children flourished in his warren, which pleased him a great deal.'

'And it was during this time of prosper that he took for himself a new doe, a lithe young creature called Nur-Rama, whom he found that he liked much more than any other doe he'd had. So as time drew she became heavy with his children, and when she did bear she bore him two kittens, a male and a female, and to them Elahrairah gave his unending love and affection.'

'Atiugapmas was the buck-kitten, hefty and strong, and he could fight and win over anyone whenever he wanted to. The doe-kitten was gentle and meek Liahkim, whose feet could carry her far and faster than anyone in the warren. They were good rabbits, as young as they were, and Elahrairah grew prouder of them each day. And they, on the other hand, adored their father, but they adored each other more, that it was to her he ran to when there was troubles, and it was he who protected her from her fears, so they were barely apart from each other.'

'And it happened that on their fourth cycle of Inlé, a _homba _came into the area, and it took a great liking to the place that it stayed there, taking a rabbit each day for its meal, and tormenting all those he didn't capture. Elahrairah and his Captain of Owsla Rabscuttle did all they could to drive the _homba _away, but plan after plan failed, until Elahrairah only had one.'

'"I would need a fast rabbit to bring the _homba _on a wild chase," Elahrairah said. And Rabscuttle agreed, but he also added, "Sir, I know of no rabbit fast enough to succeed…except…"'

'But Elahrairah would have none of it, and he went to Nur-Rama's burrow, upset. She coaxed it out of him, and by his love for her he told her everything, and prayed that she kept silent about it.'

'Liahkim heard, however, and she knew what she had to do. By love for her warren and for her father she slinked out into the night, stopping only to tell her brother Atiugapmas of her plans. He did not agree, but knew there was no other choice for their warren's safety, so he gave her his blessings, "Come back my dear sister, and I will wait for you." And he knew that if she did not come back he would go and seek her…'

'So she ran, and the _homba _pursued her, and they ran for many days, neither stopping for a moment. And who could run like Liahkim? They ran over hills and across the fields, in and out of farms, over treacherous rivers, and neither faltered in their seemingly never-ending chase. But on the fourth day Liahkim thought she'd lost the _homba_, so she paused to take food and rest.'

'But how she was wrong, and though it was true she was tired, she lost her senses and did not know the _homba _was behind her, for she could not scent it that way. So it was that Liahkim's young life ended, heroically though it was, for the _homba_ never returned to the warren, and it was as peaceful as before.'

'Or almost peaceful. The seasons passed, and as autumn came, Atiugapmas knew what befell his sister, yet he did not dare believe it. So he left. And with all his strength he followed the worn-out trails, over the hills, across the fields, in and out of the farms, and over the treacherous rivers, until at last he came upon the woods where she died, sniffing her bones, knowing what he'd known but still refusing to believe it.'

'He slept. And Atiugapmas slept, racked with hunger and exhaustion, so that in his sleep he died, his spirit floating away, and when he'd opened his eyes again he saw her as he saw her before. And they nuzzled and romped among the fields, reunited once more.'

'But it wasn't just Atiugapmas that undertook the long and perilous journey. Three of Rabscuttle's Owsla had followed, and they found her bones and his body, and knew what happened the moment they told Elahrairah of the news. He sobbed like a kitten and tore off his fur.'

'Then, when his cries had ended, he pleaded to Frith, to restore them back to life, to do _anything,_ but Frith wouldn't have it, because it was not the way things were, and Elahrairah had to accept that. But Frith as we know was kind, and He touched Elahrairah with His light, and told him, "Elahrairah, Elahrairah, they are with you everyday, all you need is to have your heart pure and open your eyes with love."'

'Elahrairah didn't know what Frith meant, but he did what he was told, and when he realized it he was happy, for Frith had turned Liahkim into the wind, she ran free and fast, bringing the scents of things she'd passed, so we may never make the same mistake she did. And Atiugapmas…strong, sturdy Atiugapmas, he became the trees, which is why he bows every time his sister passes, and which is why, on autumn days, he sheds his leaves in remembrance of the time when he found her fate, and they are not sure if they mean sadness or joy, for he also found his fate, and they became together at last."

"Cool."

Nightshade jerked his head around, only to give a wide smile at the kitten that had stumbled towards them, wide-eyed after hearing what had been Autumn's favourite story. He hadn't seen the kitten before, with its thick limbs and steady gaze, but he was acutely aware of whose it was. It was Ghost and Willow's son, a male, he could scent, no more than two weeks of age, and it seemed it was the first time he had seen the outside world. It must have taken him a lot of courage to follow Willow up the edges of the hill.

"How come yow' dun' give us much stories?" he quickly said, before either Nightshade or Willow could say anything else. He watched his mother smile at the kitten and press him against her with one sturdy paw.

"Stories are like berries, too much can make you sick." She began to groom him.

Nightshade could not help but break into a wider smile at the kitten's forlorn face. "Maw, I can clean m'self y'know." Willow didn't reply. She took grooming as seriously as she did eating, and she was not going to accept any protests. After the kitten realized this, he stared at Nightshade instead, intent, and he vaguely realized the other was taking in the details of his face. Before he could ponder further, the kitten asked, "Are yow m'brother?"

"Yes."

There was a brief silence, with which all the sounds he could hear was Willow's incessant licking. Then the kitten said, "Like Timmie?"

"Yes." Again. He found the kitten's curiosity strangely amusing.

"Then 'ow come' I dun' see yow' of'n?"

"Timothy-rah is the heir, and I am not."

"What diff'rence s'at make?"

Willow took a pause long enough to say, "Prim, stop bothering your brother." Then she began to lick him once more.

He answered the kitten's question, anyway. "'Cause I'm just an ordinary rabbit, I don't have to stay around Ghost-rah every time."

"Oh." He nodded and stared at the horizon again. Strange. Earlier his whole mind was distorted, thinking of Autumn, thinking of the others' insults, but now a sense of peace had begun to envelope his heart. He should really visit that litter some time. It wasn't as if Willow would mind. Moreover, he knew she'd be glad of his presence, as he was of hers, despite the fact that he was full-grown.

His thoughts were broken by the kitten's voice again. "I'm Primrose, by the way. After Dad's grampa they say, don't'cha know? What's yow' name?"

"Nightshade," he replied.

"You don't talk a lot, do you?"

"You are observant."

"Primrose, please…" Willow said. To him, she shook her head. "He's always asking questions. Worse than Timothy, I'm afraid."

"Not as bad as me, I take it though?" Nightshade told her. They were more friends now than mother and son. It was better than with other families, whose kittens become complete strangers the moment they were grown.

Willow smiled at him. "I'm afraid not."

They laughed, he laughed, like he'd never laughed before, and he found that all his problems were washed away as he began, in a sense, to see the love that had been there all along, untainted even as he sought Autumn's, whose presence had long diminished from theirs. And as dawn gave way to morning she took the kitten in her mouth and bade him her farewells, and he'd told her as she left that he'd visit sometime, to which she said she'd be happy if he did that. So they disappeared into a hole, and he turned and decided he'd ponder for a few more moments before he'd take a nap in his own place.

He sat there, staring at the sky. And as he did that and breathed in fresh air, the beauty of the morning, a sudden though pierced his head, and all of a sudden he was drowned in a sea of oncoming thoughts and emotions, blackness, swirls of grey, his love for Autumn, his hatred for the rabbit that killed her, his fears, their taunts, the does that turned their beautiful backs on him because he was nothing short of a youngster whose mind had aged so much…

When consciousness engulfed him, by which he was not sure whether only a minute or an hour had passed, the only thing in his head was confusion, and in his heart there was an overwhelming desire to leave the warren and head…somewhere…

Where the thought came from, he was unsure of, or _why_ it was even there. His sight whirled about, and suddenly he found his gaze resting on one lone tree nearby, and he lifted one paw and in a stuttering voice, called out loud, "Y-you?"

Of course, there was no reply.

But he didn't need it. He was already running fast down the slope, hoping to find the Chief, who would allow him the privilege of fulfilling this sudden urge, hard though it was, he knew he had no other choice.

Atiugapmas' spirit was with him.

***

"They were right, you _are_ a nutshell," was Ghost's ever-harsh reply, and he'd cowered and half-remembered how hard it was to talk properly to his father—at least, without getting a scolding and a look so sharp it would have shaved the fur off his skin. He remained silent as the grey buck paced about him, his heavily furred chest in motion with his heaving breath.

"No, no, no," Ghost said, even before he'd made any reply. "I have lived as a _ hlessi_ before. I'd expect a rabbit who can't even get himself a mate less chances of surviving out there."

"Please…"

"You suppose I am that irresponsible to let you have your way? Find yourself a guide and I may consent, but I know of no rabbit who'll leave this small warren to go some place you don't even seem to know." Ghost walked past him. "Settle yourself, Nightshade. You face your problems, you do not run from them." Without another word the Chief left him, wiping his whiskers as he tried to contemplate on what to do next. And yet again he thought if he was truly as wise a rabbit as he'd envisioned himself. Maybe he _was_ just a nut-headed fool.

After all, he'd let his sister die…

He'd traced his way to his mother's place. Because of their one-Chief system, and of the plain fact that rabbits were peaceful creatures, hostility towards strangers passing by one's runs was rare, and if it happened at all, it was usually during the mating season. Naturally, though, he avoided runs slick with kitten-scent—mothers were very unpredictable…but for all of that he wasn't very much concerned on the route he took, and after about two hours of part-navigating, part-exploring, he found himself staring at Primrose, who'd been staring back at him ever since his scent appeared down their runs.

"Hello," came Primrose's greeting. The kitten remembered him.

"Hello too," he said. "Is Willow-rah here?"

"Momma! Momma! It's Nightshade an' he's here! Hey guys, it's Nightshade, he says he's ouw' brother!" Before he had time to settle himself, he found two kittens bouncing about him, tussling his fur and asking him all sorts of questions, like "Are you Timothy's brother too?" and "Can we call you Nightie?" and the occasional, "S'it okay ta' bite your ears?" which was a kitten-thing, something he'd done many a time in his younger days.

He was finally dragged inside by Willow, who'd scolded the kittens for not acting more polite towards their visitor, and in the snug, tidy burrow where he himself had been born, he crouched, chewing on a piece of root that his mother offered him. They didn't talk much, with his mother half-asleep, the kittens tussling about him, and Primrose by his head, asking him all sorts of questions until even he couldn't take the jabbering anymore and began to reply with occasional nods.

"You're not listening," Primrose would say, at certain times, and he would nod.

"See?"

He'd look at him and smile, then he'd tickle his fur with his nose until he was giggling, the questions forgotten, nothing but pure bliss in the air. And a few hours later, all three kittens crowded about him, snoring peacefully, and it was then that he sensed Willow's gaze on him as she asked, "What's wrong?"

This time there would be no denial. "I'm going to leave the warren."

She didn't ask him why. It was not in her position to say so, though he wouldn't have minded if she did. Instead she said, "Did you talk to Ghost-rah?"

He nodded. "Yes. He didn't listen."

"And if I may say so, the issue is not yet over?"

"I'll try, I'll try to make him let me, if I have to sneak out of the warren I will, it's not so hard is it?" He looked at her direction in the darkness, and shook his head. "No, the guards won't let me…but still, I've to try, if there's no other way around…"

"Hush." Soothing as ever, Willow's nose on his ear held his emotions down and calmed him as she had always done. "I'm sure you'll talk some sense into him."

"He said he might consider it if I find someone to go with me," he said. "Who'd you think will go?"

In the dark he sensed her shake her head.

That was all the talking they did. In time he'd finished the root and slept in the burrow, and he dreamt things he wasn't sure he'd have wanted to dream, he was Atiugapmas scenting the bones, remains of long-shattered dreams and hopes, he was Elahrairah whose sorrow was greater than any river on earth, and then he was he again, sobbing by the edge of the clearing, sobbing because his sister was gone, because he was helpless, because no matter how much he loved her he was beginning to realize that love itself would never be enough to bring the dead back. Then, when his body was beginning to twitch in response to the sorrow in his heart, he woke up.

There was another rabbit in the burrow, crouching and half-asleep at the other end, far from them. He knew who it was by scent alone, and, keeping his snout down in respect, he stood and nudged the kittens towards their mother before he stepped out and said a solemn "Frith bless you."

He wasn't sleepy yet, and the pangs of hunger in his stomach was unbearable, so he found an exit to the surface and, beneath Frith's rays, began to feed on the delicate grass. It was autumn and food was not at its best, but it didn't matter. He lifted his head for a moment to check the time. It was ni-Frith.

His instinct told him he shouldn't really be out here. But to him, who was born in the safe confines of the warren, the middle of the day was as good a time to eat as dawn or dusk, the normal feedings time of rabbits. Still, he'd learned that instinct should never be shut out, and when he'd had his fill he washed his face, looked about for a while, then went back underground and made his way to his own burrow.

Space was not an issue in the warren. Even as a year-older, which in most warrens would have earned him nothing but an outskirter's life, he'd dug himself a nice tunnel near the edge of the warren, and with it two sleeping-burrows and a storage room for flay. He entered with a dismal sigh, his nose telling him that all was as empty as it had always been, and there he slumped down in one of the sleeping-burrows and curled as if to sleep.

But he didn't. He was too lonely, and that something continued to urge him, go, go, and he'd raised his head and asked out loud, "Where? Why?" but there was no answer, the feeling just grew stronger, until he whimpered and knew there was no arguing, he _had_ to go, even if he was to face his Chief and the Owsla hrair times over.

And when at last, he began to think he was mad, he left the desolate place and sought company. Who, it did not matter. He sought someone who would listen, someone who would give good advice and was wise enough to do so…

He found himself outside Timothy's run.

And then he knew he must be _really_ daft. Timothy was the Chief's heir…the one rabbit to whose shoulders the weight of ruling the warren would fall the moment Ghost abdicates or dies. He was, as had always been, busy with the warren's affairs, and would rarely be in his own burrow. He was beginning to turn away when he heard someone say, "Who are you?"

He lifted his head a bit and sniffed. "Timothy-rah?" he asked.

"Nightshade," came the bleak reply.

He sniffed again, not believing what he'd scented before. Was something the matter? The stench of fear and sadness was about Timothy, and he wasn't sure, because Timothy had always been the happiest rabbit he knew, active even at the worst of times, and sadness was something he'd known his brother to never bury himself in, even after the war, where so many lives were lost. After a moment of silence, he found the voice to ask what was on his mind. "Is something the matter?"

"It's Hop." From the way his voice was Nightshade knew, as what he'd thought would never happen, brave, strong Timothy…

Timothy had been crying.

The buck withdrew into the run again, and he followed in silence. He didn't need an invitation to enter. Rabbits, even Chiefs, were rarely formal, and in Primrose-rah even less so, and one would often find a rabbit or two sleeping in another's burrow even though no one had told them they ought to be there. He crouched beside Timothy and touched his brother's shoulder. He hadn't seen him since he'd moved out of Ghost and Willow's burrows, which had been more then eight months ago, except once, and it was only a glimpse then, more so because usually he was a detached kind of rabbit and Timothy was far too busy. So he marvelled at how Timothy had changed. The rabbit's scent told of how big-boned he was, a buck that was beginning to rival even the famed Captain Coltsfoot's heft, and maybe more so. He shook his head. Timothy was going to be a power. He knew, he _knew, _though whether he'd be wise enough to be ruler was a subject he'd rather stay away from for respect of his brother.

"Hop's sick," Timothy said, though he didn't ask him. "I don't know what it is, it's not bad, but I can smell that it is. She said she felt fine but she was dizzy and wouldn't talk to me much. Damn it, damn it, _damn it!_" The rage was imminent in the closed space. "If she dies…" His voice was weak, and Nightshade pressed his nose against Timothy's shoulder once more, for consolation. "If she dies I don't know what I'll do! I'll kill ever damn _ embleer_ thing that I see…"

"If she isn't that sick, I don't think there's anything to worry about."

"I didn't think so too, I _wouldn't_ normally worry, but the smell! Frith, the smell!" Timothy crouched there, whimpering like a kitten, a show of emotions that he knew he'd never dare do in any other rabbit's presence, save perhaps Willow, their mother. He licked Timothy's shoulder then lay there, unmoving, silent, thinking of how Hop was special to Timothy, how he'd die for her if he had to, and how _he_ loved Timothy…

After an hour, Timothy's sobbing had ceased, and he felt his brother's gaze at him so he turned. Timothy asked, "And why'd you come here? You always hated most company."

And so he told him, _everything_. And when he talked he realized he'd talked out most of his feelings, feelings which he hadn't realized until now, "There is _nothing_ for me here now, my name is nothing to them, just as her name is nothing to them, and if leaving is the only way I can right it all, or find a way out of this darkness, then I'd go…I have to go…" He began to sob, him now, and when his state of mind returned he felt that Timothy too was comforting him as he had done before.

"I'll talk to Ghost," Timothy said, and his voice was as calm and cool as Nightshade had remembered it. "If he doesn't comply I'll _make_ him, I'll even threaten to leave my position…it'll be nice to see his reaction—I'll try. I'll go to him now, but…but before I leave will you do me a favour?"

"Anything," he said with a bit of joy, knowing he'd go and kiss every blade of grass in Primrose-rah if only it would show Timothy how grateful he was.

"Check on Hop, will you? I—I'd have done it myself but…I don't want to see her this way."

He nodded, sensing the sorrow in his voice, and they both parted their ways.

He didn't know where Hop lived, but he'd asked several rabbits, and because she was a loved doe among most soon found himself in her burrow. She greeted him, and at first glance she seemed okay, but then his nose flared as he scented her…she was sick. So sick. The smell in itself wasn't unpleasant, but it brought with the knowledge of disease, disease and death, and even as he was getting used to this he realized she wasn't the Hop he knew.

Oh, of course he didn't know her very well before, but he remembered how happy she was, how full of energy and spunk, which was the same way with Timothy…he'd always associated her with his brother. Yet now she nodded and shook her head at his questions, but her eyes were sunken, there was no light in them, and when he left in his heart there was a feeling of dread, one which sickened him to the core just thinking about it, one which he knew was connected with his brother, somehow…

"I think he's sick. He smelt strange, normally he'd always jump at the idea of going down the farm for raiding, said he'd just stay home and rest. Cypress, rest? I think not!"

"Hey, that reminds me, old Arthimith, she's usually really nice to me and so, but just yesterday she chased me out of her burrow, yelling and stuff, I think she's going nuts…"

"Strange behaviour, I tell you. Must be some sort of sickness going around."

He swallowed and went off to find Timothy. A sickness going around? A plague? No, but the rabbits appeared healthy, didn't they? _Scent is stronger than sight._ He shook his head, and decided to dismiss the thought. He had more problems of his own. Whatever it was, he was sure the higher rabbits could handle it.

Life was bad enough as it is.


	3. 

**3**

When he found Timothy by the beech tree in the middle of the crater, his head automatically went down. There was no doubt Timothy had tried what he'd promised him, for Ghost was there, with furrowed brows, and the famed vicious lop-eared, Coltsfoot. "So, you came," where Ghost's words of greeting.

Fierce though his father appeared Nightshade could see a look of pride in his eyes. He was unsure of whether it was of him or Timothy. He decided the latter, and while he was still thinking his father's voice came. "I've decided to let you go."

He looked up for a moment. Then, he lowered his head once more and with his ears laid back, said, "Thank you…"

"But you are on your own."

And despite the harshness of his tone he knew his father loved him.

He loved his father too.

"Yes," he replied.

For some time there was silence, and he knew Ghost was watching him. What was his father thinking? He'd never known even until now, for the rabbit's face was as straight when angry just as it was when it was glad. Then, the conversation was over as Ghost walked away. Coltsfoot looked about, gave a cheerful, "Good luck lad," then hopped off after the Chief.

Timothy remained, and as he was always at ease with his brother, he came closer and crouched down beside him under the shade of the enormous beech. He turned sideways to view the dark rabbit chewing at the grass, then he said, "Hop isn't too well. But she was nice to me."

"Which means she isn't too well," Timothy finished for him, swallowing down his food. His brother gazed at him with a look so sad he felt a stabbing pain in his heart, Timothy's pain was his, just as he began to realize that his pain was Timothy's, and everyone else's. Under Frith's shine they were all one.

"I also…heard there were other rabbits with the same sickness going around," he said, and felt remorse that he would think (though he had no control over it) of leaving at a time like this, when there was a possible crisis in the warren. Not that him being there would make any difference, but still, it made it appear as if he was abandoning them, which was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Thanks," Timothy replied, stretching out. "I'll go raise an alarm, and try to make them find a bloody cure or something." With a brief nod the rabbit was off.

Nightshade looked about him. It was over, and he was free to go. Somehow, though, he was afraid. The eastern horizon stretched out for miles. Where was he going? Just straight on, without stopping? The knowledge came to him again, but it was faint, and it was during that time that he crouched and lifted his head and spoke in an audible whisper, "Frith. Lead my soul to Your shine."

When his short prayer was finished he ate, then slept, and how long he slept he wasn't sure, but when he got up and looked outside Frith was beginning to fall. It was dusk.

And he found Willow crouching by the beech, watching her three kittens romp about. He could tell it was their first few times in the surface by the way they were thrilled, shrieking at every single blade of grass, pouncing at every twig. He crouched beside Willow, his paws curled into fists beneath his chest, and smiled at her.

"Can you watch them for a while?" she asked.

He nodded, yes.

She smiled and hopped away.

The kittens didn't seem to mind, and he watched them as careful as their own mother would have. After a while, Primrose noticed him, and pushing his littermates away, sat down beside him. "Yow' lots nicer n' Tim," the kitten said plainly.

"Really?" he asked.

"Ash likes Tim better cos' he likes ta' talk about fightin' an' stuff, but I like yow' better cos' y'dun' tell me m'questions are stupid." The kitten sat down and began to wash his face.

"They're not," he said.

"Thanks."

The doe-kitten, Juniper, left Ash to crouch on his other side. She was a strange kitten, as far as his opinion went. Quiet at times, she can also be rowdy, as if energy came to her only in short but violent bursts. A moment passed, and he realized she was looking straight at him. "What is it, my sweet?" he asked.

"If y'listen so well would y'listen to m'poem?" she told him.

He remembered his own. And Autumn. Without actually meaning it, he nodded, and her words fell upon deaf ears, her words nothing but white noise now, his own mind once more driving him into a trance…

"Autm'n leaf, Autm'n leaf, why do y'fall?

Cos' the wind's too strong?

Or d'tree's too tall?

Autm'n leaf, Autm'n leaf, why down'a ground?

Why dun' you float off,

Where y'wonna' be foun'?

I follow y'floatin',

But y'jus stayin' 'dere,

An' I think that's a bad thing,

'Cause y'can float further.

Autum'n leaf, Autum'n leaf, off from m'paws,

Float down'a hill, though it's cover'n mist,

Autum'n leaf, Autum'n leaf, dun' turn a back,

Go on yor way, north, west, or'n east."

"Dunno what the other dirc'tion is," Juniper admitted.

"South, ninnyhead, south," Primrose said.

She looked expectantly at Nightshade. "How was it?"

"It was good, Juniper," he said, though he barely heard it, except for the last part. _East_. He didn't know, but there was a feeling in his heart saying he _must _go there, and that he mustn't waste any time, scared though he was. He stood and scanned the slopes…Willow was coming down. "_Frithaes_," he said, looking at the confused kittens. "Goodbye." _I wont see you again_, he thought, _but live unlike I did._

He hopped off into the fading light.

Willow saw him run past, and turned her head to stop him, but he was long gone before she could utter a single word. And so it was that her son Nightshade stepped out of her life forever.

***

And so it was that he stepped out of all their lives.

But there was one rabbit who caught up with him, a small, jittery buck, whose eyes were wide with unproven fear, blinking brown orbs that seemed to dwarf his entire body. He'd been crouching by the grass, waiting for what he knew would come, and stood in front of Nightshade as he came running past.

He blinked, his long whiskers, seemingly too large for his own thin snout, quivering. He couldn't quite believe this was the small Nightshade he knew so long ago. He wasn't the heftiest of rabbits, but he was fair-sized, and had glossy fur. He approached the unsure rabbit and touched noses with him.

"I will come with you."

He knew Nightshade recognized him. "Ulézenhyze, you shouldn't…"

"I am as you are. If I can protect you as I haven't protected her…then…then Frith might…forgive…" He broke into a shiver.

Nightshade's nose pressed on the top of his head. "I could use the company."

So left the two young bucks from Primrose-rah, heading to where Frith rises as the night drew on, leaving only the crickets chirping in the grass, and the taunting memories of their past behind them.

***

"_Frith a mes_," Ghost whispered to the wind as he watched their silhouettes disappear in the dying light. "Be strong for me, my brave son, my bravest son. My heart is with you." And he spoke this with pride in his voice, and it was rare that he showed any emotion at all, but it was there, pride and love. And then he turned around for his burrow, his heart heavy, for he knew, as it were, that he and Nightshade would never set eyes on each other again for as long as they would be in the living world.


	4. The Black Rabbit's Seed

** Part 2: The Black Rabbit's Seed**

**4**

Spring was life.

And flowers poked their heads from the crystal layers of snow, beautiful but blinding snow, snow which had claimed many lives when it fell weeks ago. It was slowly beginning to melt beneath Frith's rays, and with it came water, and the water nourished the plants…

It was also beginning to flood the warren.

Timothy flicked one paw. This was the worse winter of all. The snow had fallen heavily, trapping them with little food for almost two weeks. Now that it was melting came more trouble. The warren's shape wasn't meant to drain water. The concavity in the hill was like a cup, which gathered rain and snow as it went, and it was all enough for him to bite his lip and curse…though who he cursed he was not sure.

His anger was not needed. Diggers had already been set, to rid the flooded burrows and the general area of the water, and though they'd be muddy for a while it was okay, they could still manage. After all, there would be flay nearby. But he cursed another time, anyway, and after the third curse he realized it wasn't because of the snow, or even the deaths. It was of the life.

The life which was inside his mate Hop, and which, to his knowledge, was being born right now.

He was four years old. He shouldn't be nervous. But he was, by Frith! This would contain his heir, and there were lots of things that could go wrong. Hop was older than he was…there might be problems…his litter might die…he cursed for the fourth time, and with that came a voice that said, "Timothy, Timothy, keep it down, think of the birds and bugs you might corrupt."

A smile played across his lips. "Good morning, Burnet."

Burnet was old, gaunt and thin from the winter, but his face still held the same mischievousness that was so Burnet, and Timothy, despite his worries, despite his anger, found himself smiling wider as the old rabbit settled beside him and yawned, as if throwing away everything, as if he didn't care except that he was alive and all was well.

But all was not well, had only Timothy known. Burnet's heart was crumbling under his very laughter. That winter he had lost his Corn…oh Corn…her beauty fading away in his sight the dawn before the thaw began, and Burnet, though he smiled and joked when others were about, had cried and cursed the sky when he was alone, screaming why, why Spring? Why did you come so late?

"Do you think we could…"

Burnet, lifting his head, nodded, and Timothy went off before he could move a muscle, jumping and running with almost a kitten-like quality in him, despite his age, despite his size, and in the same way Timothy had thought of him earlier, he smiled at the rabbit who found the heart to be happy despite the sorrows the world had brought.

***

And happy was he.

He peered into the burrow and in the darkness could sense, could see, the tiny life that mewed and grunted beside the doe he loved so well. Hop passed him a glare, dangerous for a moment, then relaxed the next, which meant, as he knew, that he was allowed in. He stepped inside, gingerly.

He touched the lone kitten with his nose. It was furless, and small, and beneath his touch seemed so helpless, that he found it hard to believe this one creature was to be a Chief someday. It squirmed and he nudged it across the fur-lined nest back to the warmth of Hop's belly. Its scent was pleasant…no, its scent was the most beautiful thing he'd ever smelled in his entire life. Where kittens always like this, pure and sweet-smelling and so innocent?

"Let _me_ see," was Burnet's incessant pleading outside. "What do you mean you first? No, I _know_ you didn't say anything, but don't give me that look…fine, whatever, Chiefs have their way. Lousy Chiefs…"

Timothy smiled and moved aside as Ghost came in.

Ghost did the same thing Timothy had done. He smelt the kitten, tentatively touched it with his nose, and marvelled at it. He'd seen many newborns, Timothy and all the rest, but each time they were a wonder, and this one more so, because he was the third-generation heir, the Chief-to-be when Timothy's reign would be over. He touched the kitten again.

Then he recoiled in shock. Pain pulsated throughout his entire body, and heaviness began to weigh on his mind. He cried out loud, unsure of what was happening, unaware of everything but the throbbing in his head and the sinister feeling that crept up inside of him…

"You will be a _Rah_…" he spoke, though he did not want to. _Something_ was speaking for him, and he could hear it, but he could not stop it. He thought he heard Timothy's cry of horror and his son's strong arms bearing down on him, trying to snap him out of it, before the voice began to speak again and overtook all. "You will be a mighty _Rah_, but you will be weak in body, and your heart will not be blessed with the same light Frith provides the rest of you. No, darkness will seethe through you, darkness deeper than the evening sky…your life will be void and meaningless, and _everything_, _everything_ you love you will lose…"

"Oh Frith no…" 

And then Timothy cuffed him, drawing blood.

His head whirled, and he found himself, maybe hours, maybe minutes, later, staring up into the darkness with Timothy, Hop, Burnet, and the kitten's sweet-smell about him. "What happened?" he asked, ignoring the blood that dripped down his face, though he knew, he heard _everything_ although he didn't have the power to stop it from happening.

It was a curse. "A _thirf-nroz_," Timothy gasped aloud. A feeling of dread has come over him, but it was too sickening to think of.

"Timothy, Timothy you idiot, did you have to use your claws? You know how bad an omen it is to have blood drawn in a nest…" Hop's voice was frantic, and she was ready to burst into shivers at any moments.

"It's just an omen, and as for that _thirf-nroz _nonsense…it's just Ghost rattling off his old head, there's nothing logical about them," came Burnet's consolation, but neither Timothy nor Ghost, who had never been so afraid in their entire lives, believed him.

Hop began to cry, though she didn't understand everything, which was so unlike her, for Hop never cried, except during that time long ago, when she was sick. She was sicker now, sick with dread, for though only Frith knew what befell her child, whatever it was it, it was beginning to haunt her.

Burnet left, and they were in silence for a while, though they read and knew each other's thoughts. Then later he returned, an old, older rabbit behind him, whose name Timothy didn't know, and who said, without introducing himself, "Take him outside, take him outside, shine him beneath Frith's light and pray for His guidance…"

"But there's _snow_ outside," Hop protested, but she picked the kitten up anyway and they carried him outside, and lay him where Frith's rays shone on him directly. With shaky limbs Ghost dropped down and lifted his head to pray, and Timothy, and Hop, and Burnet, though he was no firm believer and thought prayers were nothing but a waste of time, was humbled and did the same.

This they did—and as it were they suddenly heard the old rabbit speaking. "Frith hears your prayers. He will lose everything he loves, but so it is to Frith's will that there would be one thing that could save him. One thing, and by then he would be too blind to see until it is too late…"

Timothy turned to the old rabbit and said, "I don't recall your name."

"I am Rosewood. Burnet let me rest here the other day." There was a pause, the _ hlessi_ contemplating his words, Ghost and Timothy contemplating _him_. "I must be on my way now," the old rabbit said. Without another word he tottered off.

Timothy turned to Burnet and saw the rabbit's agape jaws. He wrinkled his nose. "W-what is it?"

"He…" Burnet muttered, still half-stunned. "I never told him what the curse was about…"

"Where did you find him?"

"I found him down south. He said he was tired, and I offered a burrow. There was a strange yet pleasant air about him…and he'd told the most interesting stories—that's why I brought him, he seemed to be the rabbit with exactly the right kind of experience about him…but how he found out…no one told him…"

Burnet crouched down, half-shivering with confusion.

"Call him Seed," Ghost suddenly said. Timothy turned to see his intent gaze on the kitten curled up against Hop's belly. "Seed. He will be the seed for the future generations to come, our hope, he will be a seed that Frith will nurture and he will grow to be a Chief, a wise Chief…"

"Despite the curse," Burnet muttered, for though he never believed in any nonsense before it was all starting to affect him now.

"Shut up," Timothy scolded. A cold feeling was setting down on his heart. He remembered now. He remembered that voice, coming from the past he so longed to forget. _Your child_, it had said. _Your child will be our slave…he will bring ruin where you all sought to give life…_

He shivered, settled down to nose the kitten, muttering, "Seed, he will be Seed, Seed-rah." He spoke out loud. "He is Frith's seed for our future. He will bring us good luck and rule this warren better than any Chief." _You hear me? _he cried, in his mind. _He is Frith's, not yours…Frith's…like I was…_


	5. 

**5**

Seed grew like a weed, knowing nothing about the darkness that had been cast on him when he was born, although he remained lean and small-boned compared to most kittens. He, too, had a curious mind, which Timothy found amusing to satisfy.

"Why does Grandpa have blue eyes?"

"He was born that way."

"But _why?_"

"Because your great-great-something great…I lost track…one of your grandmothers was a hutch rabbit."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Then why don't _I_ have blue eyes?"

"Because I don't have them."

"So?"

But Timothy, despite his growing love for his son, could not help but realize a part of the curse coming true…weak in body…weak in body…for at one time he'd asked Seed to cuff his leg, and where he remembered even young Juniper managing to pack quite a blow, Seed's was soft, almost like a gentle touch, and he'd looked down on the kitten and said, "Seed, please, no jokes."

"But I'm hitting Dad, I'm tryin'…ouch!"

Hop had dismissed the idea, said that primroses were growing in _his_ head, and bit his ear before saying that of _course_ Juniper…who was more than two years now…would seem to hit harder, because Timothy's legs were much thicker now, owing to his "stuffing yourself with so much food I bet a whole army could live off your pellets for a week." And then he'd talked to Ghost about it, who gave him a look so hard that he wished he hadn't asked in the first place…and then Burnet, who said, "I don't even believe in that curse mumbo-jumbo anyway," and then, "Juniper? Of course Juniper would hit _hard._ She's _Juniper_."

He never mentioned it to anyone else and had decided to let the thought rot at the back of his mind instead, while he set about to more pressing matters.

To Seed, like any other two-week-old, the world was an exciting place, one that he knew was made just for him to explore and poke and roll about. Adventure was always in his mind. The moment he learned how to walk he'd explored Hop's entire burrow system, nosing every single corner until his nose had been itching from the dirt. He'd even tried walking off to other burrows one time Hop was away, but he'd been caught early and was cuffed till he said sorry, though in his mind he'd made plans on doing it again, without getting caught, while he wondered why it was that he had to stay in there while the rest move about freely.

But one day Hop did bring him to the surface, and there excitement flourished in his bones. So _this_ was the world! There was grass everywhere, there were trees, and rocks, and other plants, and he'd nosed about everything in sight, eager to learn, and eager to find more questions. "Momma, why does the tree have bark?" "Momma, do _you_ eat grass?" "Momma, what _does_ grass taste like?" "Momma, what's this plant?" "Momma, is _this _a plant?" It drove Hop crazy.

That was one time. Now Seed gazed out of their burrow, his small body shivering with anticipation. Hop had left sometime ago. He wanted to go outside, to the surface, but she wouldn't let him go with her, so with the firm stubbornness he'd inherited from his father, he decided _he'd_ go himself.

There was no one in sight or scent, and, after his whiskers had grazed the empty space of the adjoining run, he jumped out. Still trembling, he lifted his body and sniffed for another time. One can never be too careful.

All seemed well, and, though he knew nothing of the routes to the surface, hopped off in the direction he was facing. He was a kitten—the thought that he might get lost never entered his mind.

Had he been lost he would never have known, either. He was far too focused on sniffing every turn in the runs, every edge of the burrows, studying their scents and learning what they meant. Sometimes, too, he would stand on his hind feet to press his paws against the walls, marvelling at how different the soil here was, which was something few passing rabbits would ever notice.

Finally, light streamed out of the end of the run he was in, and he knew with a grin that he was outside at last. Seed hopped out and was blinded only for a moment by Frith's rays, then he set about examining the nearest blade of grass he saw. The world was his, even for just this brief moment.

Oh, had Hop only known! But the warren was huge, and the kitten small, that no one, not even the alert sentries that sat still on their posts and could see the smallest new bug fluttering about, saw him climb the slopes of the crater. And there, on the edge, his breath seemed to cut short as a discovery came over him…the world was _huge_. There were trees and plants and all sorts of things, and the hills, far, far away, where Frith's light seemed to end. He trembled, at first because he wanted so bad to explore them, and then because he was at awe…

And he marvelled as he realized how _little_ he knew after all…

Had he not been so immersed in this spectacle, he would have heard the warning calls, which, though he might not have understood them, might at least have sent him running for the nearest cover. But he was, and so intent, that he only realized something was wrong as soon as sharp talons pierced through his skin, and the full-blown hunting cry of a hawk rattled through the air.

Hop had been eating before the sentries had sounded the alarm, "Hawk!" and like any sane rabbit she'd dashed towards the nearest shelter…in which case, was a tree on the slope. She'd always been a calm rabbit in situations like these, and without any fear, had lifted her head to watch the hawk soar across the sky.

"Whose kitten is that?"

The words had made her jerk her head downwards. "Kitten, what kitten?" she asked, dread beginning to build up inside her. "Tell me…" And then she knew what she had feared as she recognized Seed's small face, her son, her only son, to be killed by a hawk…

Then Elahrairah's bravery descended upon her. Without another thought, she raced across the slopes, her eyes focused on the screaming brown hawk, and with fury borne only of one whose love was greater than the hills itself, she tore at the surprised bird.

It was a fierce and brutal battle, and Seed, who was knocked aside by a kick below his eye where the wound began to bleed profusely, crouched, watching what he would never forget for as long as he lived.

The screams and squeals seemed to last for ages, and then the hawk extracted itself from Hop's bites, and without hesitation flapped off, its flight unsteady. Seed did not even notice it go. His eyes were on the rabbit that lay breathing heavily on the ground near him.

Was it his mother? He dragged himself nearer, so that the end of his muzzle touched hers. "Mom…" he squealed. He wanted so bad for her to lick him, comfort him, and then…sleep…sleep…

He lay still.

Ghost stood by, his eyes narrowed, his heart pounding wild against his chest as Hop turned into a dark-furred rabbit and Seed turned into him, and then he _ knew_ that the curse was starting to wedge its way into his grandson's life. He laid his ears back and turned away, slightly shivering. Nobody bothered him.

Timothy had been away when this all happened, on patrol with several of his elite Owsla. The day had gone well for him—they hadn't crossed into any trouble, and of what little they saw on their trip, all spoke of good news. So it was that he was half-amazed to see a sentry running full-speed towards him, its ears shaking, its eyes glazed, as it stammered out loud, for all to hear, "T-t-there's been a-a-an a-a-attack, s-s-sir…h-h-hawk…"

"Who was it?" Timothy asked. These things happened all the time, but it was rare that a sentry would report to him directly. For reasons unknown to him his fur began to rise.

"H-h-hop and s-s-she's dead…"

His whole world shattered into pieces.

***

Ghost sat in the stillness of the burrow. Seed lay not far from him, unmoving and barely breathing as the wounds he'd received began to take its toll. Nearby was Timothy, _tharn_, aware of nothing but his own churning thoughts. 

"He will lose everything he loves," Ghost spoke, his eyes adjusting to the darkness so that now he could gaze at the dark shape that was Timothy. The rabbit did not reply. The smell of sorrow hung in the air, like thick mist, and Ghost shook his head as he turned away and muttered, "Frith help us."

"Hop…" Timothy's voice was shaky, the epitome of a rabbit whose toils had so soon disappeared into nothingness. "Hop…" he repeated, unmindful of Ghost, careful of the way he spoke the blessed name, as if the smallest mistake in pronouncing the one syllable would ruin him forever. Hop, whose voice still rang fresh in his ears. Hop, Hop, Hop…

Ghost knew he was not in a proper state of mind to care for his son. Nudging the still kitten closer to him, he grasped him in jaws and without another word left Timothy for his own burrow.

There he laid the kitten beside Willow, who needed no explanation as she nudged Seed to her belly and curled up to keep him warm. He made no sound, and Ghost was unsure of whether he would live or not. Then, with resentment, he remembered his own voice speaking out loud, "You will be a Chief…" He would live. But was that better than dying?

"Frith help us all…" he repeated, and he crouched down and slept.


	6. 

**6**

Hop's death was the turning point of it all, the beginning of the end, as Timothy saw it. In the past it wasn't at all hard to disregard the curse and watch Seed progress as a small but otherwise ordinary kitten whose flair for life was unmatched. Now that became increasingly difficult.

Seed did not die from his wounds. Through Willow's nurturing care he recovered, though the scars on his body were imminent, and the scars in his heart even more so. Timothy watched as his son changed from the inquisitive, spunky kitten to the frail, nervous wreck he was now. His ears were always laid back. The smallest sound was enough to send him scampering for Willow, and if she were not around he would bury his head in his paws and wail like an injured rabbit. When he once gazed at the world with amazement now he gazed at it with fear, expecting a hawk to dive at him from all sides, that sometimes he would just freeze in his tracks and rattle on for no reason at all.

The curse had begun.

And then one morning Frith found the Captain of Owsla, Quillwort, sitting on his haunches, looking intently from the tree where Hop had sheltered before she died to where the stream was. Earlier Timothy and an officer had crossed it to find Ghost and Willow. 

The wind ruffled his rough, seemingly ungroomed coat. It had happened before Frithrise. Timothy had gone to check on Seed and discuss some important things with the Chief when he found the burrow empty, save for the two kittens that slept soundly in it. Finding it unusual for Willow to be gone as well as Ghost, he'd circled the entire place, underground and above, and when a certain fear began to enter his mind, woke half of the warren yelling and cursing out loud. Quillwort had come and taken good care of the matter by sending out a few sleepy search parties, though he knew as well as Timothy did that they would find nothing but sorrow.

He persisted, anyway, and had gone off across the stream to where a small field was. It was a popular _silflay_ ground only to patrols passing by—otherwise it was desolate, just the place he'd thought where an old rabbit would go to when Frith had called his name. It was all a matter of time now, Quillwort thought.

He watched as two small figures swam their way across the stream. Swallowing, he approached them, touching noses with Timothy as soon as he was within distance. Then, he waited.

"He's gone," came Timothy's reply. "They're both gone."

Quillwort had been ready for this since he'd known Ghost was missing. With a solemn look in his eye, he waited for a few moments of silence, then turned to Timothy and said, "Long live our Rah."

But Timothy did not seem to hear him. He had already made his way towards the middle of the warren, where he called down for all rabbits awake to come and listen to the news he'd brought for them. Quillwort followed him, and watched as the rabbits exploded into a flurry of disbelief and pure anguish as the realization came over them. Ghost had stopped running.

"There are kittens you need to talk to," Quillwort said as he caught up with the new Chief. Taking a deep breath, Timothy nodded and hopped away, while he was left with dealing with the now angry rabbits. Fights began to break out among them, and with the firmness of the Captain that he was, he called for a stop to this.

***

"So, it's finally happened," the buck said. He was a large rabbit, a dead ringer for Timothy had it not been for his lighter coat and the gentle look in his eyes. He sniffed the air with a certain calmness. "Frith watch over them."

"It doesn't bother you, huh?" the doe beside him asked. He shook his head while she pressed her nose against his shoulder. "But it bothers them. More than I expected."

"I'll talk to them. They won't attack me, don't you think?"

She smiled. "Anyone who tries attacking you wouldn't be in this lot. They respect our father too much, Primrose."

Primrose hopped to where Quillwort was, who, happy to have the responsibility off his back, left the crowd to him. He waited for a bit and saw that some of the fighting had stopped as they looked at Ghost's son, an expectant look about their faces.

"Shame on you," were his first words. He shook his head. "Ghost-rah has been Chief of this warren for more than four years. I didn't think he left just so you rabbits could fight amongst yourselves. He died trusting you would all go on without him, and we owe it to him to keep going on. He's still here, you see? He is everywhere. If we keep him in our thoughts and hearts as we go on he will always be here, so you don't have to fear anything."

By now the fighting had diminished, and all that was left were the infrequent sobs among a few, and everyone with sorrow-filled eyes. Primrose was thinking of what to say next when an old rabbit with a white stripe down his face came and asked to take his place. He nodded, and as he hopped back to Juniper heard the rabbit say, "Now I will all tell you a story. It isn't about Elahrairah, but you will all love it, for because of it all of you came to be…"

***

His parents' run was no different from what it was yesterday, but now he could not even bear to scent as he was wont to do for fear of breaking down with sorrow at the familiarity. He entered a burrow and turned to the two kittens that he could sense was waiting for him to provide answers to questions unasked. He gave a sigh and said, "I need to talk to you." Gone was the warmth in his voice.

"But I'm hungry…" the other kitten protested.

He did not listen to her. Rather, he said, in an urgency and coldness that might have been the same had he been talking of the weather, "Ghost and Willow are dead. They can't take care of you anymore."

The silence unnerved him. He could see now the confusion arising within the two kittens, and within seconds crouched down and said, "You both know Juniper's burrow, right?"

He sensed a blatant nod from one of them.

"Go there."

It was an order, not a request, and he was half-pleased to see them both hop out and make their way to do as he bid. They were, after all, old enough to understand.

Only when they were gone did he lose his grip and lay down, trembling.

***

For most of the way the two kittens were as silent as they could be, though their thoughts were as clear to each other as Inlé in a cloudless night. It was only when they've entered Juniper's burrow system, laced with her scent even from the entrance, that the grey doe kitten spoke.

"Y'dun believe 'at, d'you?"

She felt Seed quiver slightly as he replied, "Believe what?"

"That mother is dead. Don't'cha believe it?" She didn't know that he did, didn't know that his own mother was dead days before she herself was born, but she could feel his quickening breath and sympathized by touching his cheek with her nose. "Come on, les' go find her."

"If you say so," he replied, half-heartedly, knowing it was all useless but for her sake he would cope. He stood on shaky legs and followed her out of the burrow.

Despite himself Seed was not in so much sorrow at the news, though he did believe it—for what reason has there for Timothy, who had never lied to him, do so now? But there was a certain calmness about him, as if he knew and had been expecting it all along. Or perhaps the fears he'd long portrayed had run out, and he was no longer trembling—he was part of the trembling itself, a rabbit whose heart was cursed to cry and bleed for all his life.

They searched as much as they could underground, until the doe kitten wailed with impatience and said, "They _havta _be outside! Come on, come on!" Seed was reluctant—but she persisted, and when he would still not agree she snorted through her nostrils and cried, "Fine! I'm goin' b'myself!"

He watched in horror as she stamped out and left him behind the tunnel in silence.

For a while he listened to his own troubled breathing, and then with horror he realized that now he had lost Willow and Ghost he could never afford to lose her too. With renewed vigilance he hopped after the doe.


	7. 

**7**

_ Lang-it_ meant blue skies in a Lapine dialect—_Lang_ meaning sky, and _It_ meaning blue. She was born four weeks ago, a single kitten, and when she came into the world a darker grey rabbit had kissed her on the head and proclaimed to Frith that He had blessed him more than he ever deserved. The sky had been blue then, cloudless and blue, and this was what she'd been named after, and those who saw her called her a jewel among Elahrairah's people.

She knew little of this, and of what she did know no longer mattered. There was little in her mind save for the resolve to find her mother as she bounded across the clear springtime grass, oblivious to all but the most observant of rabbits, and then those who saw her didn't recognize her.

She'd gone on for a few hopeless minutes, and, dizzy and exhausted, she lay by the shade of the large beech tree and half-heartedly nibbled on a blade of grass. It was ni-Frith, and the lazy heat filtered through the cracks of her fur.

Had she been an older rabbit she would have given up long ago, but she was just a kitten, and with a kitten's trust firmly held on to things she believed in, that the rain was truly Frith's tears, that the stars were great rabbits of the past, and that her mother could never be dead. So with her faith barely tainted, her breath restored to her small body, she began to move again.

Seed caught up with her, panting, his ears tucked against his neck. He bounded by her side and placed his paws on her shoulder to stop her. "Where d'you think…you're goin'?" he asked.

Her eyes were hazel in the light, like Willow's. Her nostrils widened, she told him, "I told you, didn't I? I'm lookin' for mom."

"Lang, s-s-she's dead…" He lowered his eyes to avoid Lang-it's hostile gaze, his hackles rising at the sudden coldness of his surrogate sibling.

"How do _you_ know? Seed, you didn't even get ta' see her!"

Before he could even speak she'd run off. "If your not wi' me you're 'gainst me!" she called as she headed up the slopes. "I'll fight you if you wouldn't stop botherin' me!"

Going against her was the last thing he wanted to do. Doubling up his speed he followed her. "I'll go with you…" he said, then trailed off as they neared the edge of the slope. Here he looked about, fearful all of a sudden. When he was sure all seemed safe he trotted after her again. "But…try not to…"

He stopped his ineffectual chatter and stared with awe as Lang-it paused by the edge of the stream. She was trying to look over the edge of the bank, her paws inch-deep in the mud. "How' we cross this?" she asked. "It looks dang'rous."

Seed sat beside her. He'd never seen water before. "Yes…we better leave it alone…"

"Where's your sense of adventure?" she retorted at him.

He wiped a paw across one ear and stifled his urge to tremble. "Aren't we lookin' for Willow? She oughta' not be there 'cause there's still lots of other fields about." With that he looked behind him, trying to insist on going back that way.

She shook her head, stubborn as ever. "No. We're goin' across, 'cause I want to."

"But Lang…"

"Well, no one asked _you_ to cross," she blurted out.

"Yes but…"

She plunged into the water until it was chest-high. The mud was soft, and she had to splay out her claws to prevent herself from slipping. "Not so…tough…" she said, though she had no idea what to do next.

"Lang be care…"

"I will, I am," she snapped. She moved a paw, and her ears began to quiver. Suddenly the water seemed higher. Suddenly a drop reached her eyes and she closed them and shook her head in an attempt to get it out. And then she slipped.

The stream was small, but for a young kitten barely out of weaning it was just as dangerous as any rapids. The moment the ground ceased to hold her feet she began to kick her legs, screaming and choking as the water rushed into her lungs.

"He…lp!" she yelled, the world nothing now but flashes of murky green water and blue skies that was of her name. She thrashed about like a fish at the end of a line as the stream threatened to engulf her within its depths.

Bright orange sunlight flashed in her eyes. It blinded her but for a split second, then her paws, which sought the waters for something to hold on, felt something warm and furry beneath them. By instinct she grabbed it with her claws and her teeth, coughing, nothing in her mind now but the contemplation of living.

"Lang!" came a stricken cry. Though she was barely aware of it, Seed was beside her, scrambling for the bank as she held on to him. The young kitten had thrown himself at the perilous waters the moment Lang-it's cries became too much to bear. He couldn't let her die in front of his eyes. No…she was all he had now.

The past few weeks Timothy had ceased to become the loving father he once was. Unconsciously the rabbit had blamed his son for his beloved Hop's death, and though he did not mean it had avoided Seed as much as he could. When he did talk to the kitten his coldness was as evident as the dirt beneath their feet. For all Seed cared he no longer mattered to Timothy…

…Lang-it was all he had.

It was Frith's grace, or maybe just pure luck. Moments later he clung to the edge of the bank and hauled himself up. Still latched to his fur was the shaking Lang-it, who spluttered as oxygen entered her lungs. She looked around for a while, dazed, then released him and hugged the wet ground.

Seed was bleeding from her scratches, but other than that he felt fine. He lay immobile for a while, the warm heat beating against his dripping fur. Then he stood and looked over at her.

"Are _you_ okay?" she asked, noticing his gaze at her. It was as if during the whole ordeal it was she who fished him out of danger.

Used to it all, he muttered, "Yes…"

His gaze wandered back to the surroundings, caution engulfing his senses. They were on the other side of the stream. Somehow, he was in no particular hurry to go back into the water. Knowing this made him think for a few moments and then, hopping closer to Lang-it and nudging her shoulder, said in a hurried tone, "Well, if we're goin' we're goin'. So move it."

She pawed at his nose and shakily got up, a smile tweaking the corners of her mouth. "S'time some sense got knocked inta' you."

They followed the worn-out rabbit trails the Owsla had left in the thick grass, Lang-it bounding forward with delight, Seed falling back behind as he proceeded with caution. Yet even with their varying degrees of enthusiasm and speed they did not stay more than a couple of feet away from each other.

"Lang?" Seed asked, breaking the silence.

"Yes?"

"You think Timothy hates me?" He watched a yellowhammer flutter by. "He acts like it."

"I dunno, I don't think he does," she replied. "What's gotten into you all of a sudden?"

"N-nothing…"

"Phrish, when rabbits get older they get more foolish," she muttered to herself, though Seed thought she said it loud enough to be audible to him. "But I'll bet he's after us," she added in a louder voice. "And we're in for a _real_ cuffing unless we find Mom."

"A real cuffing all right," he muttered. This time he said it below his breath, so she couldn't hear. And then he quickened his pace before he got himself into more thinking. He didn't want to think about anything now. Thinking would make him more confused.

The grass was shorter by now, and nearby a rowan tree loomed protectively over them. Seed, happy to see a safe refuge, dashed for the dark spot near its roots. There, he sniffed around for a while, then squatted down and began to chew on a sprig of burnet he found nearby.

Lang-it was impatient. "Come _on_," she snapped, nudging his elbow with her nose. When he did not reply, she did it a second time. "We're wasting _ valuable_ time."

"We need to rest," he said in between chews. "Come on, eat something."

She looked at him, dubious. Then, she regarded the pangs of hunger that had been in her stomach since that morning, and realizing she had nothing but a few bites of grass, sighed and began to eat beside Seed.

After they ate they slept, though for Seed it was an erratic one. In his sleep talons pierced his sides, water rushed at him from all sides of the field, and his mother died once more, this time in front of his eyes. Then came more dreams of things he did not recognize, rabbits moving across a field, kittens, blinding light, and a bright red-orange thing that spit and crackled and swallowed the trees…

He opened his eyes. Orange light marked the ground that was not shaded by the rowan's shadow, and realizing that Frith was nearly setting, he pawed Lang-it awake.

"Gah…you make me rest 'an you wake me up. Something's wrong with you," she muttered. They ate again, though neither touched the grass for it was thin and unpalatable, preferring the burnet that Seed had found earlier. When they were half-full they both thought it wise to move on, and so they did.

"Seed will you tell me a story?" she asked as the moved.

His eyes wandered about before he answered, "No way."

"Come on."

"The _elil_ will hear us."

"You make more noise with your own feet."

"You don't like repeating stories." he reasoned. "And I don't know any stories that _you_ don't."

"You _should,_ you're older than I am." They hopped over a thick leg of root, and here Seed paused to look at the trails they were following. It now branched into three directions.

"We'll go this way," Lang-it said, following one path. He shrugged. One was as good as the other, and as they continued walking she began to badger him again. "Come _on_! You're as bored as I am, so'n do somethin' productive for a change, like entertain me with a story."

He wrinkled his snout. "There was a grey little bunny, she was a _doe_ bunny, and because she was a doe she liked ta' pester people into doin' her stuff, like one time, 'Oh please _handsome_ brown rabbit, do clean my burrow for me,' which was ridiculous 'cause ordinary rabbits never _clean_ their burrows, but she did 'cause she liked to kick the walls for no reason at all and so the dirt scatters all over the…"

"Nah, heard it before."

"How could you?" he asked, grabbing a dandelion blossom along the way and chewing on that. Dandelion flowers were pleasant to eat, though as the elders usually said of things that were nice to taste, "Too much is bad for you."

"You told it to me before," she replied, skipping across the dirt. "Come on, tell me something better."

He raised his lip. "So if I've told you it 'afore, what happened to the grey little bunny?"

"She got mad at the brown bunny that wouldn't clean her burrow so _she_ left him all alone and sad and ran off with a handsome dark prince."

"…really…" he said with sarcasm.

"And the bunny that wouldn't clean her burrow missed her 'cause no one else could stand him!"

"Lang…"

"Awww, you're not fair sport, Seed…"

"No, I mean, look."

They both stopped in their tracks. Up ahead Seed could see what appeared to be two motionless rabbits, though their faces and limbs were obscured by each other and the thick grass about them. "I think it's them…" he started. Then he regretted saying anything at all, for now Lang-it ran full speed towards them, shouting,

"Momma! Momma! S'me, Lang!"

"Lang-it, _no_!" he said, and he tore sideways from the path and across the grass.

When he reached her she was sitting on her hind legs, both paws raised as she regarded the brown heap with laid-back ears. "Mom," she said, oblivious to his arrival, as she reached out one paw to touch her.

She quickly withdrew her paw in shock. Was this her mother? No, it couldn't be. It was cold, too cold, and that was unnatural. And the scent…she didn't _smell_ right. The scent was sweet-stinky, but dull, and almost empty, and the weight that it brought surprised her. No, it wasn't her mother, it couldn't be…

Seed watched as she gazed about her in confusion, her paws dangling down her sides. Then she managed to turn his way, and at that moment he knew that one look at his face was enough to clarify everything. She knew now, _Frith_, she knew now…

"Mom! Momma! Wake up, wake up, _please_ wake up!" She pressed her nose against the body and lifted her head, trying to nudge her awake. "Please, I'm hungry Momma, I want a bath…"

The sight of her breaking down shattered the calmness he had earlier on, and now _ he_ fell down, trembling. "Y-y-you said you'll always be here…y-y-you said you'll never leave," Lang-it cried. "Why'd you leave, now, why'd you leave now…? I need you…"

"I need you," Seed repeated, his eyes on Willow for a moment, then at Ghost. "H-how are we supposed to live now?"

"Wake up! Momma, wake up!"

"Chief…"

"Seed," and now she gazed at him with brimming eyes. "She's not wakin' up! Seed…why isn't she…"

"She's not gonna wake up, Lang, ever," he said, hating himself for it.

Then her grief turned to anger, anger at everything, anger at nothing, anger at _ Seed_, and she turned and knocked him down with one cuff. He watched her tremble with hackles raised as she spoke, "You're lying, Seed, of course s-s-she'll wake up, w-won't she, Seed, she w-w-will, she h-has to!" Her teeth chattered with her every word. "Don't l-lie to me…"

"…this way, Lang, you're the one lying to yourself…"

That broke through it, and she fell beside him, her eyes glazing over as sorrow took her over, and she grew _tharn_ from it all. As the afternoon's red sky turned dark blue they both fell into a deep sleep.

***

Timothy watched the two kittens sleeping side by side, relieved to find that they were still alive. The bodies of Willow and Ghost that had lain there earlier were now gone—dragged off by some fox, he presumed. The kittens were lucky they weren't discovered.

He didn't touch them yet, but at his presence Seed's eyes flickered open. Before he had a chance to say anything himself, the kitten murmured, "W-why?"

"Someday, when you grow up, you'll understand it all."

There was a brief pause. Then, in the darkness, a flicker of Frith's light appeared in Seed's eyes as he said, "Then…I-I want to grow up…"


	8. The Fall

** Part 3: The Fall**

**8**

Like stream water, time slipped through their claws that not even the strongest could prevent it from passing through. The crisp, cool spring days turned into blazing summer, and then a month into autumn, the days gradually getting colder, the leaves turning yellowish each passing week. It had been five Inlé cycles since Ghost-rah's death and the rabbits had moved on, though there were certain times that one of the older rabbits would turn over their shoulder expecting his ice-blue eyes watching over them with quiet dignity, the way he always had.

It was a fruitful season, and many of those who mated during the high summer were now taking care of their young but healthy litters. The Owsla had more rabbits than ever, ones that even Burnet himself was proud of, and those of the ordinary rank, they were triple the Owsla. It was a good-sized warren now. Frith had once more kept His promises.

But as it was good things meant life would soon get bad, and the darkness that had been lurking around the corners of their warren began to emerge. The main thing was their steady increase. During the high point of Ghost's rule population was not that big of a deal, with Primrose-rah starting on shaky grounds and very few rabbits. However, near the end of his Chiefhood, and now with Timothy's rule, there were more rabbits in the runs, and outskirters had even begun to crop up.

Timothy hadn't done any action on this matter—partly because it didn't occur to him that an increase in their numbers was a bad thing. In fact, to him, it was a good thing, a magnitude of the strength their warren had. And neither did it occur to him, or any of his high-ranking subordinates, that humans would interfere with this—they were so far isolated from them, with the closest pathway to their world the abandoned farm, that it never touched their minds. To top it off, the said farm had been off their track since Primrose-rah's first summer—it had been overrun with weeds and was no more use to the rabbits than a pack of mice.

Oblivious as humans were to them, they weren't far so lucky. The farm was the main thing. Though it was abandoned for the past four years a certain man by the name of Greg Stone had visited, and bought the run-down place for the cheapest price possible. It didn't matter that the rabbits, for their few months of trespassing, had destroyed the garden and vandalized half the property—or that except for a few vegetables, it was not a productive place. No, it was just for him to live out his entire life, peaceful and alone in the countryside.

Stone was a solitary man, with a white beard he barely trimmed, white hair, and blue eyes half-hidden beneath the wrinkles that showed his age. He was seventy years old and in perfect health. He'd lived his life long and lovely, though he never married nor had any children—a typical lone wolf, they called him. Now he trudged along what had been the garden, empty after the rabbits' marauding, save for the thick growth of weeds that had accumulated through the years.

"Rabbit tracks, no doubt," his companion, a farmer that lived more than a few miles away and his nearest neighbour, said. He ran his thumb along his jaw and pointed at several Owsla trails left sometime ago. "Lived with 'em close enough near my place, nasty pests they are, have tried to kill 'em but they keep springing back up. As if they've got some secret hiding place somewhere. If you're gonna' try to grow anything in this place tough luck. But don't worry, we can get them before they get us. My guts point me to that weird-looking hill over there."

They checked out the warren, and were more than astonished at the crater the small hill sported in the middle. Robert Whyte, the farmer helping Stone out with moving in, had whistled long and hard before jumping back as part of the slopes gave in due to his weight. "Whoever did this must be daft, or otherwise very bored. This has to be manmade, don't you think?"

Stone did not reply for a few moments as he tested the soil with one hand. "Someone did this alright, probably dug a large hole in the middle and left it at that, maybe fifty, one hundred years ago, maybe longer—probably for some sort of project. The rain—something—washed away the soil in the middle, but the outside's harder, so it made this shape."

Whyte swallowed his initial shock at Stone's casual observation. Then he peered back down the middle and shook his head. "Well, those rabbits have one hell of a home here…"

"They get flooded though."

"Obviously there's still lots of them despite that. Too much of them. We can call the exterminators I usually do, we can gas these babies out in no time."

But Stone didn't call any exterminators. For one thing, he didn't want any kind of poison loitering about so near his home. For another, it wasn't necessary. He'd already been doing rabbit control for many years, and the morning after he'd officially moved in the house, he trudged towards Primrose-rah with a cage full of ferrets in one hand, and a pack of hounds behind him.

***

The humans' sudden arrival had set Timothy's impatience flaring. After the humans had visited the warren that one time he'd already set the entire Owsla on alert, tripling the officers on sentry duty as he planned out his next move.

"Maybe ye'r jez' bein' paranoid, Timothy," Dandelion, Captain of the Peace Officers, had insisted. "They're prob'ly jez' stopped by for a visit, no more'n that." Although it was a harmless comment stemming from nothing more than Dandelion's own opinion, both Quillwort and Timothy had exploded at him, Timothy for his part screaming curses until the rabbit had fled from the burrow in fear.

Unfortunately the rabbits weren't used to handling decisions concerning humans—none of those alive had ever been in contact with one and no one knew what to expect, and because of that any plans they might have had was delayed. So it was that it took Timothy and his rabbits by surprise when the ferrets, armed with teeth and gleaming eyes, began to filter through the runs.

Timothy sat in his burrow, his teeth half-bared with fury as he listened to the scouts harried report. "S-s-sir, they're w-weasels and the m-man, he's got…he's got dogs with him…and…"

The Chief narrowed his eyes. "What's that about weasels?" he asked.

Quillwort, who crouched listening beside him, briefly touched his shoulder with a paw. "Ferrets, sir."

"Ferrets?" he asked, confused.

"They look like weasels. Dog's-Tail said man uses them to flush us out from our runs or so as he knows…"

The scout immediately interrupted him. "What's worse sirs, the man's got dogs—Thi-Thistle got caught by one…"

"Big dogs, you say?"

"I-I-I honestly don't know…sir…"

"And the ferrets—how many ferrets are there?"

"Hrair…"

"Damn!" Timothy sent the scout running with one wave of his paw, while he turned to Quillwort beside him. "We'll need to get as many officers as we can and have those ferrets killed before every single _embleer_ rabbit in the warren scoots out and gets killed."

"That's impossible," Quillwort replied. "It's _elil_ you're talking about here…"

"I am bloody aware of that…"

Quillwort continued, "And I don't know what's gotten into your head that you'd think anyone would dare attack _elil_."

There was anger in the burrow, and it all came from Timothy as he cuffed Quillwort soundly across the head, once. "Pfeffil-hraka!" he cursed, seething. "My father attacked an _elil_ once. _Dog's-Tail and Agrimony_ attacked an _elil_ once. I can't see why the Owsla you're so proud of can't do the same thing!" He stomped out of the burrow and into the adjoining run.

The musky scent of ferrets combined with the rabbits' fears made his head reel. Without thinking he sought the direction of a run that led upwards, to the outside. Frith's light was not far, he thought as he scrambled across the dirt, eager for fresh air.

However, near the edge of the run he saw that the shadows were not quite right. Years of training took over the instinct to flee, and he crouched down. Now, he could see it. The shadows were criss-crossed…from the man-thing—the net—that covered the hole. The ferrets would run them to the edge of the nets and…

A rabbit, squealing and stinking with fright, ran past him. "Look…" he began, but his warning came too late. There was a louder squeal, and now mingled with the smell of fear was the smell of blood and death.

The man had not seen him yet, owing to his dark fur. Without waiting for another moment he ran back down the run, hoping to catch up with Quillwort. If they wouldn't kill the damn ferrets—which was as good since killing them would only mean more ferrets in the end—then the only thing left to do was to lead the rabbits out of the warren. And if all the warren entrances were blocked as the one he had just come across then that means they have to dig…

He was suddenly met by fangs, and drew back in time to scent a ferret attacking him. Blood dripped down his wounded shoulder, and he licked his lips in anticipation. "You're a ferret, aye?" he said. "All the more fun."

He threw himself at the ferret's direction.

The ferret, a sleek, sable-coated jill, was surprised at his attack. She had never chased a rabbit that fought back before, and it took a few moments for the realization to register into her mind. By then Timothy's powerful incisors had already wounded her across the chest.

She growled and began to fight back.

Timothy was one of the heaviest rabbits in the warren, and one of the most formidable fighters of all. In him were years of experience and thick, heavy muscles that could lay an ordinary rabbit flat without haste. The ferret was smaller than a rabbit—but it was with her that he found a true match, for when he was strong she was agile, and his slow, lumbering turns were nothing to the swiftness of her feet. Her teeth made their mark many times before his could even make two, and it was not long before he stood at the edge of the run, his legs splayed as blood dripped down his dark sides and mingled with the warren soil.

The ferret stood, untouched save for the one wound across her chest and a tiny nip in one ear.

Timothy breathed heavily. The darkness was too thick to see through, and his brain all too cluttered to properly distinguish one scent from another. He was aware that if he threw himself back at the ferret there was little chance that he would come out the winner…

His hind leg moved back. What was he to do?

_ "…across the wide river…"_

His head jerked up sharply. Who was that? There was no rabbit in this run—there would be no rabbit in this run. Anyone near it would smell the death-scent and would by instinct avoid it. He heard the ferret growl in front of him, and his right hind leg moved back another step.

_ "…Frith guided me 'cross the wide river…"_

It was not a voice he remembered—but he knew that he _knew_ that voice…and it was spoken not in ordinary speech but in an almost bird-like way, like, like a song…

_ "An' I swam though I was scared…"_

Where had he heard it before?

_ "But I swam though I was scared…"_

_ "'Cause Frith guided me 'cross the wide…"_

_ "…wide…"_

"…wide…"

It hit him. The run was too wide. That was why the ferret had the upper hand—that was why the ferret could turn quickly. A smile crossed his lips as he turned and began to run. His head cleared up, and from behind he could hear the ferret running after him.

"This is _my_ warren," he said below his breath, turning a corner. _And I know it better than you do, you embleer intruder._

He went into another run. It was just recently dug, and was one of the smaller runs in the warren by width. He knew that he might win now, and braced himself as the ferret cautiously followed him inside.

The ferret stopped, a few feet away from him. He knew she was aware of his bulk and knew he was up to something inside this small run. But that didn't matter. Not now…

His hind legs flew and hit the walls, hard. Thrice, he did this, each time stronger than the last, and in a few moments the soil began to cave in. It was still soft. The ferret yelped as dirt fell on top of her, imprisoning her for a split second.

That short moment was all he needed. He leaped on her and clamped his teeth down the ferret's exposed head, heaved, and threw her across the walls.

She was dead on his first bite.

He did not stop to examine her, or revel in his victory. There were more ferrets to take care of—and more importantly, the rabbits had to be out of this warren before the man decides to do something worse. It was all up to him now. He, the Chief Rabbit, was responsible for all.

***

At the other end of the warren, things were not going so well.

Seed had awoken with cries ringing in and about the burrows. At first he'd decided it was all in his mind. But when the alarms did not cease, he'd lifted his head from where he hid it in his forepaws, and ventured outside Juniper's run just to see.

As his paws touched the soil outside the burrow something hard hit him against the shoulder. He gave a squeal and looked up to smell a doe. She was panting and distraught, and slick with the scent of fear. "Are…you o-okay?" he asked.

"R-run…" was all she said.

Before he could contemplate or ask her on it she sped off. He drew back, a sudden feeling of dread arising inside of him. No adult rabbit would run full-speed underground, unless…

A ferret followed close. His eyes widened. Though he did not know what creature it was his nose and instincts told him it was an _elil_. An _elil_, in the warren! He withdrew back into Juniper's run and hid inside one of the burrows. There, he curled against the wall and covered his head in his hind legs, while his entire body began to shiver.

***

"How long is it going to take to dig?" Timothy snapped. He was gritting his teeth with impatience as he watched two rabbits digging against the wall. "Is it _ ever_ going to go faster than that?"

"About four days, if we're going by your plans," the chief digger said. At his rising lips the rabbit quickly added, "Maybe three days and a half if we push them harder. Listen Timothy—I don't really see why you should be that worried. He'll be gone by evening and we can move the rabbits then. This exit won't even be needed."

"You aren't bloody responsible if you're wrong," he said simply, before he turned to the scout that had been nudging his shoulder earlier on. "What was it you wanted?"

"Sir, the man's leaving," the scout said. "From last reports he was gathering the dogs and whistling to the ferrets."

From the corner of his eyes he saw the chief digger smile. "So we don't need this run after all…" the smirking rabbit was saying.

"Sir! Sir!" Another scout bounded into the run before Timothy could flick his ears. The rabbit was panting. "The man—he was caging the ferrets and then he began to whistle for a bit. I think one of them was missing—he looked mad, sir—sir, I'm afraid he hasn't left yet…and doesn't seem to have plans on leaving!"

***

Stone had planned on killing several of the rabbits each day, and was glad to see that they'd managed twenty-one on that first try. The dogs hadn't been happier since he'd remembered—the holes that weren't netted or filled yielded live, running rabbits, and the dogs were more than eager to catch them. There were seven dogs—whippets, small but fast, each armed with teeth that could break a rabbit's back with one bite. No rabbit escaped.

He'd been there since late morning, having brought lunch for him and the dogs, and was glad to finally see the sun start to set. He leashed the dogs, all yapping and eager to take the day off, and then began to call for the ferrets.

He'd set off ten ferrets. For most it was too much to handle, but he was Stone, and he'd been ferreting since he was a young kid. The ferrets he had had been with him for about three years—he'd trained them from since they were kits, and was very fond of them. The ferrets were all trained to come when he whistled, and though it was common for them to stay underground for up to an hour while he did this, most would usually appear in time.

Today the ferrets appeared in various intervals, as always, but a certain fear began to rise inside of him. Usually the first ferret that would come up was his personal favorite, Sable. But no Sable appeared, even as the clock ticked off and there were already five ferrets snoozing in the cages. It was when the ninth ferret came that his fears were confirmed—there would be no Sable coming back.

He had heard of it from ferreter friends, of rabbits that would attack and get a ferret or two killed. It was rare, but he'd thought he'd never happen to him. Now it seemed it had, and the fury in his heart was unexplainable. A rabbit killed one of _his_ ferrets—and his favorite one, at that. It was the same fury he had felt when, earlier on, one of his dogs had been run over. He'd found the man responsible and gave him a beating he would never forget—not because the dog was dead but because the man had dared kill one of _his _animals. It was as simple as that.

He left the dogs tied by the beech tree and drove back to get supplies—and a tent. He would stay in the damned hill until all those rabbits were dead. Stone was by no means an unreasonable man, but he was often described, by those who knew him, as eccentric, and his decisions, once made, were never to be swayed, no mutter how unjustifiable they were. As Frith fell Timothy confirmed the scouts' reports that the man had no plans of leaving—the dogs were milling outside, ever alert on the rabbits' movements, and the man was sitting not far, cleaning something that appeared to be a long stick.

"He's going to shoot us," Timothy said.

Quillwort's ears pricked up, though his eyes did not leave the figure of the man through the net, oblivious of them as he continued his activities. Quillwort had never seen a gun before, but he knew what they were—it was a widespread Owsla knowledge. "Yes," he replied.

"All the runs are blocked, huh?"

"Several aren't but there's no use going out. A few tried to get some but the dogs chased them back down. Killed a few." Quillwort furrowed his brows and turned to the darker rabbit that squatted beside him. "We're dead. Quite very dead."

"Not if I can help it. That run we're digging's our only hope."

"Four days without food and water?"

He watched Timothy's shoulders heave as he sighed. If it was up to him he wouldn't be worrying the rabbit like this—but it was his job, as second in command, to catch things that the Chief missed. "I don't know, I don't know anymore," Timothy whispered in a voice barely audible even to his sensitive ears. Moments later the rabbit lifted his head. "But I'll be damned if this warren crumbles. Quillwort! Tell the diggers we'll only go as far as by the foot of the hill…"

His eyebrows lifted. "Foot of the hill? The dogs will get us there…"

"They can't get us all. Maybe a couple or so will only see us, even, and if we're careful maybe we won't get noticed. It's better than starving to death."

He thought for a moment, then nodded his head. "I'll take care of that."

***

"Two _embleer_ days?" Timothy hissed. The chief digger nodded, and the huge rabbit flew at him in rage, digging into his sides with his claws and kicking his belly with powerful hind legs. It was only with Quillwort and his officers' effort that the chief digger was dead. He was driven back, seething with rage. "Two days?" he roared. The runs echoed at the volume of his voice. "Tell me why in Inlé digging to the foot of the hill will take two bloody days!"

"…sir…" the chief digger coughed. "…two days is the minimum time it'd take. You're the Chief Rabbit. You haven't dug or seen digging the way I have. It's autumn and the ground is hard, and my diggers are weak from lack of food. Two days. I'm only in charge of this project. Anything else is strictly your business."

"You watch your mouth," Timothy snarled, though he knew that the rabbit was right. Slight foam began forming at the edges of his mouth, but he became aware that killing or biting anyone was going to do no good. With a huff he lowered his ears. "Minimum you say?"

The chief digger turned to the large hole they'd formed in the wall, then looked back at him. "I can drive them harder. We might make it less than two days. So long as you get me more volunteers."

"Hear that?" he said, cocking his head at a sentry. The rabbit, surprised at the attention, sat straight up and nodded with haste. "Run and get Aspen the fastest, strongest diggers. Tell them their reward is their life. Now beat it!"

The sentry set off.

Turning to Quillwort, he said, "I want you to get messengers to each of the main runs. We have to gather all stored flay—roots, dried grass, _anything_ edible from their storage burrows and ration them to fit for two days—don't give me that look, I don't know how in Inlé we can manage, but we have to. Oh yes, rabbits four Inlé cycles to six seasons get priorities over anyone else. Go on!"

When Quillwort had gone he had Honeysuckle, Captain of Sentry Duty, have his rabbits patrol every run leading to an exit to see what was going on outside. Then he set off for his own burrow.

There he crouched to rest. He was asleep in a few moments. No one disturbed him, and he napped until Inlé rose. When he His wounds from the ferret battle ached, and his throat was burning with thirst. He looked around his burrow. How would they survive for two days with little food and no moisture?

He hopped out into his run and went inside another burrow. It was his storage room—a burrow where everyday he was supposed to add in grass and edible leaves. It had been one of Ghost's suggestions for burrow-owners after the war. Supposedly it was for the owners' convenience—they didn't have to leave their own burrow if they're hungry, weaning kittens was easier with food nearby, and the dried leaves could be used as bedding. Of course, Timothy knew that Ghost also had this type of situation in mind—the past winter, when the snowstorm came, the food they'd gathered had been useful (though they were mostly bark).

His storage room was thick with leaves of various colours—he'd never bothered to clean it since he'd lived there, so some of the leaves were recently picked, and others were dried-up from months ago. He, of course, could not discern which was which through his eyes alone—it was too dark—so he nosed around for a bit until he found a small pile of grass he'd grabbed yesterday, ate a couple of bites, then bit down a whole bundle and trudged outside.

He met Quillwort along the runs, who said simply, "We don't know how this is going to work but we do have a considerable amount of food."

He nodded, pressed his nose against Quillwort's shoulder, and then motioned his head sideways, pointing it towards his burrow system. Quillwort had known him long enough to understand—with a quick, "Yes sir, that's very nice of you Timothy," left him.

He found his way to Juniper's burrows. He poked his head inside the run and dropped the grass inside. Then, he began to leave.

"T-Timothy?"

He smelled Seed coming over to him. Flicking his ears back, he said nonchalantly, "Try making that last as long as you can. We're going two days with little food, kit. No telling how long we'll last."

"H-how about Lang?"

"I'll bring some for her too. Where is she right now?" He'd know if she was there—she was always the first to greet him whenever he dropped by. Her absence worried him a bit. Maybe the ferrets got her?

"She…was over at Thislay's burrows this morning." At this Timothy gave a relieved sigh. Thislay was an older doe but was very popular among the younger ones—her burrows were in the deeper part of the warren, and it was unlikely the ferrets could have got there. "I-I think she'll stay there for the evening."

"I'll bring Lang-it some food over there. Don't worry. Now I better leave before Quillwort gets them all." Without a goodbye, he hopped away.

Seed slunk back and sniffed the dry strand of grass. It did not smell so good, and he was not sure why he had to eat them. The entire day he'd stayed in Juniper's burrows, afraid of the ferrets and the uncertainty of the events, which was why he'd failed to hear the news that they were trapped and that the only escape was through a long run they were digging in the south edge of the warren, which would take two days to finish.

He crouched for a few seconds before he heard a slight growl in his stomach. He'd finished the small amount of food that was in Juniper's storage (she was a very neat doe and had taken to bringing in only a small amount once a week), but it hadn't been enough. So now even the dried grass was beginning to look appealing. He looked around for a moment and once he was sure there was no one about, he ate.

After he ate he hopped out of the burrow, eager for some fresh food, though he moved as he always had, with ears laid back in an ever-cautious lookout for trouble. He reached the area's main run and was about to move up the tunnel that led to an exit when an rabbit called out, "Hey, where do you think you're going?"

The sudden words surprised him and he drew back against the wall, waiting as the rabbit sniffed him over. "Hey, aren't you the Chief's son?" the rabbit asked him.

"Yes. What's going on here? Why can't I go outside?"

"Sorry sir, even you aren't supposed to go out. Not even Quillwort himself would dare do that—there's a man outside, with dogs and ferrets and guns, and he's killing any rabbit in sight. Didn't you know?" The rabbit suddenly paused, realizing it was an impolite thing to ask a question to a deemed superior, and drew back. "Sorry sir—but didn't you?"

"No. Was that what—what the earlier commotion was all about?"

"Yes sir, we got quite a few rabbits killed. The ferrets chased them out. And the man isn't leaving, not like they said they usually do, he's even got a shelter here with him." The rabbit tipped his head forward. "Yes sir, that's the thing."

"So what are they doing about it?"

"Well, Timothy's got—who's the chief digger again…"

"Aspen."

"Yes sir, yes, Aspen, that's very right. Aspen and his diggers were ordered to make a run—if you remember the structure of our warren, sir, it's very narrow sideways but very long downwards—I guess that's working to our disadvantage because we have to find an exit where the man can't see us. So they're making a run towards the foot of the hill, but Aspen says that'd take two days or something, so we're trapped here two days." The rabbit drew a deep breath. "Anything else?"

"What about water? We'll die without water." Seed's brows furrowed. To him the leaders' ideas were far-fetched. They were certainly going to starve or die of dehydration.

"We're in deep hraka, if you may allow me to say so. Very damn deep hraka, sir."


	9. 

**9**

And so began the greatest toil the rabbits had to face.

Quillwort had crouched in his own burrow for hours. His body wanted to sleep but his heart was not into it. The hunger, the damn thirst burning in his feverish throat, and the worry that none of them would make through this alive plagued him. And he wanted badly to be able to do something about everything, about anything, but the only thing they had to do right now was wait and see. Wait and see.

But Captain Quillwort was not a wait and see rabbit. That was how he got his position as Captain of Owsla in the first place, after Captain Coltsfoot had died last year, and Captain Dog's-Tail's retired. Ghost knew what he knew—that he was the best candidate among all, because when the rest were saying they could manage to bring a whole lot of rabbits up a tree, _he_ was already pushing the last rabbit up. Most leaders say things—he _did_ them. And now, with nothing to do at a treacherous situation, and pain searing through every part of his body, he was at his wits' end.

Finally, when he could not stand it any longer, he got up and went outside. There, he followed a run to a burrow. Several bucks crouched inside, playing a game of bobstones.

"Those were the rough stones—I swear! What do you mean they aren't?"

"Nice time to play lads. It's dark enough you could chew through it," Quillwort spoke as a greeting. One rabbit turned to him and said,

"Aw, Cap'n, I wish y'won't bring up d'topic o' food—chewin', Cap'n. I'm hungry enough as t'is, jez y'should know." It was Dandelion, Captain of the Peace Officers. Quillwort smiled at him.

"That's why I'm here. Anyway, I'm too damn tired to see who else is in this burrow—who is?"

"Me, o' course, an' there's Carrot—y'dun prob'ly dun' know him, he's a wide patroller. An' 'ere's Bracken—e's one o' my group Cap'ns…an' o' course y'know Honeysuckle, an' lastly Swede."

"How can you fit so many rabbits in one burrow? Anyway, if you guys are hungry I'm planning to…"

"Do somethin' dang'rooz, no doubt," Dandelion said with a chuckle.

"Yes, it is quite dangerous. So stop interrupting everything I say!" Quillwort waited for a slight apology from Dandelion, then he continued. "Man sleeps at night, doesn't he? Or at least your sentries told me he already is, Honeysuckle. And the dogs are tired—they're also asleep. We can bring some rabbits up and get a bite or two of grass. We should be safe if we stay near the holes enough."

A rabbit moved. "Sounds like a good plan to me," Honeysuckle said. "What about you wussies?"

"Count me in."

"I'm all for it."

"Jez' great—but I'm not lettin' y'blokes have all d'fun."

"Yes." The last rabbit was Swede, a quiet buck of few words, whose presence Quillwort was glad for. Swede was a low-ranking officer only because ordering others around did not seem to be to his taste. Yet he was a great one, Quillwort's favourite among all. He was once aware of a fox that was miles away, simply by observing the resident animals' behaviours, and had saved lives because of his alertness. If there was one rabbit that Quillwort could ever trust it was Swede.

Quillwort gave a rare smile and nodded. "I see. Well, I'll give you a few minutes to gather up a few rabbits—I'll meet you by the Northern entrance."

***

The Northern entrance was one of the few that the man hadn't covered or netted—and just as well, since it was near his tent. Quillwort peered out of the hole and in Inlé's light could see the man's shadow through his canvas shelter, and the group of dogs clustered together nearby. He drew a deep breath.

"They're all asleep," he whispered.

"Try walkin' out, Cap'n," Dandelion suggested.

Quillwort's ears rotated backwards, and in a quick show of courage jumped out. He could hear their heavy breaths as they all watched one dog's hind leg twitch, excitement rising through the air. His eyes widened. They had to be careful that the dogs wouldn't scent them.

One eye on the dogs and one eye on the terrain, he made a couple of hops, then crouched down to chew on the grass. It wasn't the succulent grass that the rabbits preferred—this area was almost never used as silflay grounds—but it was a blessing to him. The grass was thick with dew, and he was beginning to lose his thirst as he chewed. After a while, he lifted his head and said, "All clear."

Cautiously, each of the rabbits set out.

They ate with apprehension, and quicker than before. Quillwort's eyes did not leave the dogs for one moment. When he felt his stomach getting heavier he knew they've all had enough and whispered for the rabbits to get back underground. Though they still wanted to eat they knew better than to go against him—quickly, they obeyed.

He held Dandelion back. "You and Honeysuckle get some more rabbits. We'll need to feed as much as we can before they wake up."

He watched them all run off, before jumping into the tunnel. A few moments later, he noticed Swede sitting where he'd last seen him. The rabbit's ears were standing straight up, and his face was in the direction of the man's tent. He wanted to tell Swede to get inside in case the dogs stirred, but decided against it. Swede wasn't the kind of rabbit to appreciate such nonsense when there were more important things to do. Instead he said, "Watch for the dogs and tell me if they move or something."

"Yes."

He waited, knowing Dandelion and Honeysuckle wouldn't be long. And he was right. He soon felt Dandelion's nose against his haunch, and he led the rabbits outside while he kept watch beside Swede. After a while, he bullied each of rabbits back down and bade the two Captains to do as they've done. His plan seemed to be going well.

***

Timothy watched as the wave of rabbits went down the run, one eye squinted. What was going on here? He was aware that the rabbits had just gone from outside—it was all over their scents. He waited for a bit, and true to his suspicions, a high-ranker appeared. He pounced on Dandelion.

"What's going on here?" he hissed.

"Easy d'ere Chief," the buck replied. "Is' jez' a harmless feedin'—Quillwort's idea. They're stayin' near d'hole an' watchin' out for d'dogs. I'm goin' to find more rabbits to bring out."

Timothy was speechless for a moment. Why hadn't _he_ thought of that? He praised Quillwort in his mind, throwing away the thought that it indeed was dangerous—it was certainly better to die trying to live. "Listen," he said. "Do you know my son, Seed?"

"Do I ever? Chief, he's a nice liddle un', I'd stop by Jun'per's burrow to talk to him sometimes. Why, sir?"

"The burrow's a bit far from here but I'd appreciate it if you get him and Lang-it outside to feed for a while." He paused for a moment. "I-I know it doesn't seem fair but…"

"S'okay sir, I'll get to d'others first an' I'll pass by 'em. S'at all?"

"Yes," Timothy said. "Yes—thank you. Now Honeysuckle…" he continued, turning to the other rabbit. "There's another open run nearby—get rabbits up there too. Best take some good officers with you." With this in place he turned and went through the run.

He could tell Quillwort was surprised when he appeared, and knew the rabbit expected some sort of disagreement from him. Indeed, he was very pleased, though the only thing that showed this was when he jumped on the grass and began to feed.

"Still," he said, as he lifted his head. "We can only do this for evenings, and we might still lose half of the warren."

He went back to his food just as Quillwort spoke up. "Maybe. But those that died would just as well die. We're leaving this place right?"

"Not unless the man leaves, which isn't possible, so yes."

"Where do we go?"

"Anywhere. Search for a new warren."

"Ebony told me before that there's just useless woodland and small meadows nearby. The nearest habitable place is Forest and Quieflain—and they're already occupied."

"…shwereshne'way."

"What was that?"

"Where is he, anyway?" he repeated, after swallowing.

Quillwort shrugged. "Who knows? He's probably dead. It's been seasons since I last saw him."

"Dead or mated. How's it going there, Swede?" He knew Swede from seeing him near and around Quillwort oftentimes, though he was not aware of the rabbit's abilities. Quillwort was not one to commend rabbits.

"Still asleep. Though I suggest you keep it down, sirs."

A flick of temper ran through Timothy's veins, but he quickly ignored them as Dandelion's group began to filter out through the run. "Come on, eat quick, jez' bite an' swallow, no chewin' for us nowadays," was Dandelion's cheery remark as he appeared. "I's got yer' two kits 'ere, Tim. Eat up, Seed-roo, you're lookin' thin. My, my, Lang-it, les' keep d'glossy fur, shall we? Eat up."

Lang-it hopped out and quickly touched her nose to Timothy's, a smile on her face. "Thislay says thanks for the food," she said. The grey doe was growing more attractive each day—recent trivial information from the Owsla says she was the most popular doe on the bucks' lists, though Timothy, as her guardian, had no plans on letting her mate until she was of proper age. Yet that did not stop suitors from trying to gain the upper hand, and commenting every time, to her and to bucks who thought another doe was prettier (and of the bolder ones, to Timothy), on her silvery-grey fur with black-tipped guard hairs, her perfect-length ears, and her lithe, sleek body. In the moonlight she appeared more beautiful than ever, and Timothy had always known this was because of the mixture of her mother's elegance and her father's stag-like features.

He nodded to her and went down the run, in the meantime whispering to Quillwort and Dandelion that if they "Let anything happen to my two kits you'll both be stinking in the runs by midday."

The rabbits, as the ones before, ate quickly, without the usual pauses and sniffing. If there was danger Quillwort and the rest would see to that. Seed, just like the others, grazed the precious wet grass furiously, and it was only after a while that he began to slow down, the grass growing heavier in his stomach, eating becoming nothing more but a pleasurable, instead of necessary, activity. It was time to go underground.

"Dog!"

He jerked his head up in alarm and watched in horror as a barking rang through the midnight air. Surprised birds chattered and flew to the sky, and the noises woke the other dogs and sent them on the same route, snarling and yowling, tugging at their leashes with the ferocity only the _elil_ could muster. Through the din and his growing stupor Seed was aware of the rabbits rushing off underground.

"Run Seed. _Run_!" It was Lang-it's voice, and it broke him from his trance. He began to scurry towards the hole.

"Quick lad!" Quillwort stood by, and as he dashed past him heard a loud, shattering bang. He slid down the run and lay on his side, panting and dazed.

Quillwort ran inside. "Move it you little hraka!" When his nudging did no good he dug his teeth in the scruff of Seed's neck and dragged him across the floor.

It was further away that they stopped, knowing they were safe, for the moment. Seed was waking up to Lang-it's pawing and constant bickering. Quillwort, panting and out of breath, turned to Swede and asked, "Is anyone hurt?"

"The man missed," came Swede's reply. "But the dogs are awake."

"Damn!" Quillwort snarled, gnashing his teeth together. "If only digging in this horrid place didn't take too long! Dandelion, are you here?"

"Here."

"Get Aspen and have him send a few of his diggers over—we need to open up several runs far away from the dogs as possible, and near some grass." Dandelion flew off, and Quillwort was left to gather his breath and start re-evaluating Timothy's plans.

***

On all parts of the warren, busy had become an understatement.

In all sides Aspen's diggers were re-opening closed runs and making new ones, which did not take them any more than a few hours. Through this runs rabbits were brought outside to eat, and this went on until near-dawn, where the Owsla set off wide-patrollers to secure a place outside, once and if the rabbits escape. This initial event woke the dogs and the man again, and he began his day's work, dumping soil back some runs, netting others, and leaving a couple untouched. The dogs were set free, and no rabbit with a sane mind dared go outside now, for they circled in and around the hill, their minds focused only on rabbit-catching. The dogs and the man were as determined on killing them as they were on escaping.

On the Southern end Aspen and his crew continued the digging. Aspen had assured Timothy that with all the volunteers he'd had they might finish earlier.

Meters below, diggers had yielded water. This solved part of their troubles, but the rabbits were still hungry, more so the majority that did not get to feed the night before.

It was then that the Black Rabbit stopped by for a visit.

The younger kittens, who found their mothers with little or no milk, went first. Timothy, though devastated, was not in the least surprised nor sympathetic. "They would die sooner or later," he'd reasoned. "Let them go here than to bring the _elil_ to us on the run." On the run. His words alarmed the rabbits, bringing them to the realization that their troubles would not end once they were out of here. Some grew angry. Most said they would not go. Quillwort, listening to this, did not seem in the least compassionate about them, and said with deep resentment, "The less weak rabbits we have on the group, the less worry I have." This seemed to shut them up.

Still, Timothy had more to worry about than what the rabbits thought or decided they would do. The ferrets had been set off again, and rabbits were being killed every hour. Plus, even the younger, stronger rabbits began to weaken to liver deterioration, and it was to his utter disbelief when a rabbit came to him at ni-Frith and said, "Captain Honeysuckle has stopped running, sir." Honeysuckle was only a year and a half old.

This set him off in alarm, and he instantly dashed to the nearest open run and without thought or concern for his own safety grabbed a whole mouthful of grass and rushed back down, dodging the dog that went for him. His feet found their way to Juniper's burrow, and there he found Lang-it staring at him dejectedly. "Seed's dying," were her first words. "He's…really dying."

Timothy followed Seed's scent to one of the burrows, and there he nosed the grass under the rabbit's mouth. The smell of the place was nauseating. Some sodden hraka lay by the other end. Seed had apparently been at this state since morning.

"Eat, you stupid buck," he growled, nosing one strand of grass towards his open mouth. "Eat. Eat, damn you. Live, damn you." He laid his ears flat and dropped down, shaking, _crying_, regretting that he'd ignored his son since his mother had died. _His mother_. "You're all…" he whispered. "All I have left of Hop. Don't die. Don't die."

He crouched by Seed, praying fervently to Frith, asking for forgiveness on his insolence and stupidity. Could His light reach through all these shadows? Seed was cursed, and blood had been drawn in his birth-burrow. Maybe this was Frith's way of saving him from a life of loss and darkness—by killing him. Maybe…maybe—but he didn't want Seed to die…

For though all this time his mind was blaming Seed for his beloved Hop's death his heart continued to beat for his sake.

He had fallen into a trancelike state, and did not know when Quillwort passed by several times to bring them food, or Dandelion. The latter had said, "D'last rabbits to die should be d'Chief's family, no? Where's d'other pretty doe, Jun'per?" Lang-it had thanked them and brought the rather large amount, bit by bit, next to Timothy, and awoke him out of his daze with a paw.

"We gotta' eat," she said.

He did not move. He remained in this state for hours, his mind nothing but a replay of his prayers, repeating them over and over again as if each word would somehow bring them closer to Frith, Who seemed so far away now. Which was why he did not see Seed's eyelids flicker, nor did he see him begin to chew the grass by his snout. It was only his words, "I need water," that snapped him awake.

"Tim's back," Lang-it yawned. She immediately apologized for eating half the food, and Timothy, surprised for a moment, said it was fine and had Seed eat half of the remaining. He ate the rest, and when he was through he led them downwards to the damp burrows the diggers had made, where they licked the walls for water. Seed was beginning to look better.

In all his life Timothy had never been in such a dire situation as this. Like Quillwort, being unable to do anything but wait was difficult, and in front of his very eyes he watched as their numbers began to dwindle. In fact, so many rabbits died that some of the runs had begun to develop a smell, and Timothy would have had the burrows with dead rabbits in them collapsed, but the rabbits were unwilling to do so. By this point most had grown too weak. They just didn't care anymore.

And it went, hour after hour of waiting, while Timothy lay in his run and Seed and Lang-it slept in one of the burrows. He was feeling drowsy, and it was early morning. He'd eaten the night before though, so he wasn't too worried that he would die. Not long now, he thought. Aspen would finish the run. They would dash out. The dogs wouldn't notice—once they do they'd be too far ahead. He'd lead them to a new warren. They'd be happy and safe again.

"Timothy?"

He turned to the newcomer, and scented the air. It was Primrose. "Come in," he said.

The rabbit crouched beside him.

Primrose was unusually quiet, and it was some time before he decided he should break the silence. "Have—you eaten?"

"Yes, I went with Dandelion's group last night. Tim…Juniper's dead."

There was a squeal, and Lang-it stepped out of the burrow to face them both. "It can't be," she said. She approached them and trembled. "She can't be dead!"

"I-she was in my burrow—I tried to feed her, but the food wasn't enough, she couldn't hold on. She didn't want to come with Dandelion—said she was too sleepy. When I came back she was gone." Primrose did not shiver, but Timothy could sense his sadness. He sat up and sighed.

He touched Primrose's ear with his nose, and nodded his understanding.

He was suddenly aware of another presence in the run, one he was not familiar of. Standing up, he called, "Who's there?"

"S-s-sir—the run's broken through."

"Thank Frith. Thank Frith." For a moment, Timothy was unsure that he was hearing what he was, and he'd considered the fact that he was dreaming, but then he realized he sure as Inlé wasn't. Those words were the most blessed he'd ever heard in his entire life, and with newfound energy dragged Primrose and the two kittens towards the Southern end.


	10. 

** 10**

Quillwort was already there, and he greeted the group with, "If we weren't escaping I'd be damned happy to have this thing for my own. Nice place to keep bobstones in." He paused. "Bobstones and does."

"Look'it the size o' it. Jez' starin' at it makes me dizzy," Dandelion added.

Timothy hopped inside. Contrary to Dandelion's words the run was too dark to see properly, but he knew that the rabbit was right—it was indeed a big run. His sides did not touch any walls, and he set about sniffing it to make sure he wasn't mistaken. Indeed, the run was as wide as two rabbits, the largest he'd ever known of in his entire life.

"What do you think—think of my run?" a rabbit coughed. Timothy hopped out and located Aspen at the edge of the adjoining tunnel. He touched the base of the rabbit's ear and found it to be strangely cold. "A-a-a great achievement…" He coughed again. "Don't you—know, it's…I never thought we could manage it…"

"I didn't ask for a big run," Timothy said, though he wasn't angry.

"I wanted—more volunteers because…I knew you were…were…getting out of here in a hurry. A wider run meant…more could—go at a time…" Aspen groaned and burst into an onslaught of coughs.

"You've outdone yourself this time, Aspen," Timothy said, touching the rabbit's body with his paw. "Rest and take it easy. You've saved us all."

"I've saved—_you_ all…"

"Rest."

"Yes, Chief, I'm going to rest," Aspen said, and he sought Timothy's face to make him feel the smile that was on it. "For the long run. I hope we do meet again. You're—you're very nice to upset."

There was a quick shudder before Aspen's body relaxed. Timothy allowed the rabbit's head to drop down. "The warren owes you big-time," he said gently. "I'm going to miss you, my friend." Then, he turned to Quillwort and Dandelion. "You know what to do. Dandelion—rally up all healthy and willing rabbits—we're going out of here. Quillwort, get your Owsla. We need to secure this run and the area, scouts for the dogs and man, the like—that's your job, not mine so you know it better. Move it!"

He turned to Primrose and the two kittens. "You three stay here for a bit until the first few waves of rabbits get out safely, then do what's ordered, it's the safest way to go. Primrose, take care of them."

"Take care of yourself too, Timothy," Primrose told him.

He nodded. "I will."

"We love ya' Tim! Don't kill yourself!" Lang-it cried.

He touched her nose. "I won't." Then, with a quick, gentle look at Seed's direction, he went off across the length of the run.

It was long. He could easily tell why it took the diggers this long to make it. He went on, and moments later the thick darkness began to fade, replaced by warm, soft light streaming from the hole overhead. He had reached the end.

Cautiously, he poked his head out. It was the first time he'd felt the cool, morning air on his face in two days and he was glad for it. He hopped out and took his bearings. They were, as he'd told Aspen, right at the foot of the hill. They had to be careful or else a dog might see them.

"Chief?"

A rabbit from the outside had nudged his shoulder with a nose, and he turned and immediately recognized it as one of the patrollers they've sent last morning. He nodded. "You've found a place?"

"Yes sir. Down south, the small copse. We can rest them there."

"Is there shelter?"

"Better than a shelter sir. We've found an abandoned _lendri_ den."

Timothy's eyes widened. "And what's so good about that…?"

"The badger who owned it was dead—recently, he's very old I must say. Anyway we poked around for a while, thinking it would be good for us since the badger isn't around anymore and all—it's quite big—we followed one of the runs but we didn't go all the way through or it would have taken us a long time, but we suspect it comes out to an area some distance away. Very good in case the man follows us, sir." The officer took a deep breath.

"Very good, good job lad. Where are the others?"

"They're in the den, preparing for the rest." The rabbit sat beside Timothy. "Are they ready, sir?"

Timothy did not reply. He'd heard the sounds of rabbits talking underground and knew they were. Sure enough, Quillwort's head appeared. The rabbit emerged, followed by several Owsla, each of whom set off to their designated tasks. "I'll lead them to wherever it is we're going, then come back for some of the rest," Quillwort said. He looked at the patroller. "Which way?"

"Not far, Quillwort. See the copse? Remember the old _lendri_ way back when we last patrolled? It's dead and we're going to use its den." Quillwort nodded and set off. A long line of rabbits followed him.

After a while, the rabbits stopped. Dandelion poked his head outside and said, "We're s'posed to wait for a while. T'is diff'cult if we've got a trail o' rabbits for _elil_ to follow, don't'cha think? By d'way, sir, some o' 'em's takin' to diggin' another exit from this one so's more rabbits can com' out."

"That's fine," he said. "I think you can go now."

"Come on lads!" Dandelion set off with his group.

***

All the pushing and shoving, and the general commotion of the crowds, was making Lang-it impatient. "Are we leaving yet?" she asked, as she watched the rabbits move.

She turned to Primrose, who was looking about with attentiveness. "Yes…yes, maybe we should. Go on Seed." She was aware of him pushing Seed towards the run. "Before the dogs see us."

She heard Seed grunt and move forward.

Primrose had made the mistake of waiting too much, and now he was afraid that they might not make it after all. He peered over a rabbit's back in time to hear Dandelion cry, "I'm 'ere m'dears," which was about the sixth time he'd heard it speak out. He touched Seed's scarred ear with his nose. "We'll be alright," he said.

The rabbits began to move, and he followed. All seemed well enough. They emerged into the light and for a moment it blinded him. But as it did there was a slight inkling in the back of his mind…something he couldn't put his paw into, but it told of danger, terrible danger. He was not a believer in such foreboding, but he found that he had turned to Seed and urged him to run, run faster, "Run!"

***

Timothy did not see Primrose or the two, for his eyes were at the two alert sentries. "They are coming…" one said, shivering. "They are…they are…"

"Shut up. Maybe they won't come here," Timothy said, distinctly worried. The man and his dogs were climbing the slope, and though he said otherwise he knew they would see the rabbits, and let the Black Rabbit loose. His whiskers curled grimly. His mind was beginning to cloud with fear.

"Across the wide river…"

Timothy lifted his head. Someone was singing now, and he saw the sentries' ears fold back so _they_ heard it too. He furrowed his brows. It was not in the same voice he'd heard when he was fighting the ferret, but it was speaking the same words…

_ "Frith guided me 'cross the wide river,_

_ Though the currents swept me 'stray,_

_ For his light shone even through the water,_

_ That's why I'm here to-day._

_ Frith guided me 'cross the wide river,_

_ Through the rocks that bled me past,_

_ For in the pain He still remained, my healer,_

_ With love that would last…"_

Then _he_ remembered. It was Autumn's song. Autumn, from three years back, Autumn the grey kitten who gave her life so that the Chief Ghost would live. She and Nightshade made a lot of poems and she would sometimes add in a tune it. The particular song still lived, perhaps through the rabbits of their time that had heard it when they were kittens and passed it on to their own children. He'd heard it two nights before they left for Quieflain. It was raining and he'd just explained to Autumn and Nightshade the possibility of their father not returning after the war, and that they should be ready for anything that comes up. He thought that they'd taken his words well and had left, but once he was out of the burrow he smelt their sorrow, and heard their shaky words of reassurance to each other, that their father would be back of course, that their father could never die, that Frith was there. There, beneath the pouring rain, she had sung, and in the shaky insides of his heart he thought she was singing _for_ them, the army that would soon be immersed in a wild hurricane of death and loyalty, that their eyes would remain on Frith for He would watch over them in victory and defeat and blood and fear throughout. He was no more than a youngster than, but had revelled in the amount of faith and trust a single kitten could bestow.

He snapped back to the present, just in time to hear the frantic call of, "He's coming, sir! Sir! The dogs have spotted us! Run, run damn you!" There was a loud bark, and suddenly the rabbits were running for safety. Timothy saw the dogs coming for them and he bounded towards the entrance.

"Quick! As many rabbits as can go, come on!" From behind he could hear Dandelion calling, "Jez' calm down an' take it easy, follow Quillwort!"

A bang resounded through the air.

He clenched his teeth, urging the rabbits to run. Then he felt Dandelion's nose on his ear. "Jez' go, sir! I'll take care o' d'is. Ya's gotta live y'know."

He cursed out loud but followed Dandelion's advice. As he joined the crowd he heard another loud bang, following a squeal. He turned and saw a rabbit lying beneath a pool of blood where Dandelion used to be.

"No…"

The dogs have begun to attack. He turned, not wanting to see them kill each and every one of his rabbits. They were eager for blood, fangs revealed and reflecting the Black Rabbit's face even in Frith's shine. Anyone slow or unfortunate enough to be caught 

A dog strayed towards him and with ferocity he dug his claws across the dog's chest. The lean creature stepped back, surprised, and this gave him time to tear across the ground for safety.

In the midst of all the commotion he saw a kitten singing,

_ "And I swam though I was scared…"_

He shouted loud as he saw a dog make its way towards the kitten. The kitten did not seem to hear—but if it had it would not have mattered. In a flash the dog had it between the teeth and flung it across the air.

Its body landed nearby. Timothy's whiskers quivered as he was forced to continue on. In his mind he could still hear the kitten's bold singing, its trusting voice reaching out through the wind to give those who lacked it the courage to keep on going.

He made it into the thick canopy of trees. Maybe it was his near-starvation that was making his head dizzy. Or maybe it was just the stress. But he could have sworn bloody Inlé that he wasn't dreaming when he heard the kitten continue singing, "'Cause He guided me 'cross the wide, wide river…"


	11. 

** 11**

As Timothy dashed across the main run of the badger's sett there was no doubt in his mind that they would make it, and that even Quillwort himself would have believed him. Earlier on five Owsla, under Quillwort's blatant suggestion, had stayed behind to lead the dogs and man away from the actual group and the badger's den. Nobody knew whether they would live to come back or not—but they all agreed that the officers were very brave to do such a thing. There was little chance the man could track them here now—if they hid well enough he wouldn't think rabbits would dare be in a badger's burrow, and if he did know they'd well be on their way.

Timothy was wary of the sett, though. A badger's smell was not as strong as a fox's, but it still triggered his instincts, and the place was literally covered with it. He snorted, and found Quillwort near the end of the run. "How many have we saved?"

There had been eight hundred and twelve rabbits in the warren. Four hundred and two had died of starvation. The man, his dogs, and his ferrets killed forty-eight. From the remaining rabbits only a hundred and eighty-one had escaped, the rest dying or dead, trapped within the confines of the warren that had once been their home.

But Timothy had not been interested in numerical information, and knowing how hard it was to escape, was glad to hear Quillwort's words of, "We've saved at least half of those that were left." He nodded, stepping back to take his first clear breath of air since their flight.

His eyes were closed as he contemplated on their position. "We'll…we'll let them rest for a day, have them feed group by group."

"And then?"

"We'll follow the run and see where it leads."

***

Timothy led the rabbits across the run just as he said he would. It was an easy walk, though the rabbits were not used to long hours doing nothing but to hop, forward, forward, forward, curse and groom themselves and each other for a while, then continue on, forward, forward. It was a tedious job, but it was something to do, and for those long hours of hopping in the dark, the pain in their limbs were forgotten, and the sorrow in their hearts obscured. Never in Timothy, or Quillwort, or any one else's life had they seen so much courage in so many souls. Through their journey along the tunnel there were those who fell and died, and others who fell and would not get up, but always the rest moved on, their hearts on Frith and their eyes on the dark-furred rabbit that was their leader and continued to urge them by and by, "One more bloody step, one more bloody step, I'll take a branch and hit you over the head if you stop."

They did not starve this time. Holes were frequently dug above the run for access to grass, and that in itself was their food and moisture, but they did not stay outside long, for they would always hear the sounds of dogs barking, and knew the man was still searching for their trail. Besides that they were exhausted beyond compare. Even Quillwort, who had always been one of the strongest in heart and in body, began to show signs of wear, and Timothy himself would have given anything to have a better rabbit in his position and lead them somewhere he would never have thought of himself. Despair hung over everyone's heads.

But on the seventh day of travel light began to stream in, and Timothy, who was old for a rabbit, seemed to turn into a kitten as he bounded outside and realized they were at the foot of a small hill. The rabbits watched as he bounded about, laughing with as much exuberance as any two-month-old. When Quillwort finally caught up with him, and asked him what the matter was, the rabbit regained his breath and replied with much joy in his tone, "Don't you know where we are?"

"Er—not exactly, sir."

"We're in Inléthlay! I haven't been here for years!" The rabbit bounded up the hill, and Quillwort, confused, followed him. They reached the end and Quillwort peered down. Sure enough he could see rabbit holes, half-obscured by long grass. Around the edges of the wide field were trees.

"What is so good—about being in another warren, sir?" Quillwort asked. He himself was of pure Inléthlay blood, but that was the nearest thing he knew of the warren. It had always been the Chief's duty to maintain good standing with neighbouring warrens, and he rarely included himself whenever Ghost visited any.

"Good? Good bloody Inlé, the man—we're saved! If I'm right he wouldn't bother destroying every rabbit warren he comes upon—it's us he's interested in. But if we hide here for a while? He'd think we're from Inléthlay. He'll leave us alone."

"I commend you for an idea anyone would have thought of, sir."

"You bloody ratfink," was Timothy's reply as he bounded back down to tell the others.

***

And of Inléthlay? Clover was long dead, of course, and was now under the rule of Oryctol, daughter of Germander, son of Clover. Oryctol greeted them without the usual hostility a Chief Rabbit would have, which bothered Quillwort, for he was an advocate on never being too sure, and thought it was unwise of Oryctol to accept them as quick as this. In fact, he was quite suspicious that the female had something in mind, which did not mirror Timothy's own opinions.

"Timothy! What a pleasant surprise!" Oryctol had said the moment she saw Timothy outside one of the holes. "I knew it was you from the sentries' descriptions, though you have grown in size a bit."

"That's what everyone says nowadays," he said, and with wide smiles they touched noses. "You've grown lovelier than ever, Oryctol."

Her smile disappeared and she turned her head away for a moment. "I wish you wouldn't say that."

"It's just a harmless compliment," he said. Then, he decided to change the subject and pawed at her shoulder. "I know you are wondering why I am here."

"Yes, I am," she said, turning her ears forward. "The last time anyone from Primrose-rah visited was last spring with Ghost-rah. He is gone, I believe?"

"You're right. Well, I'm not going to drawl on any longer. We're here for shelter. A man moved into the farm near our warren. He wants us destroyed. All the rabbits you see here…" He paused and turned his head towards the rest, eagerly waiting for Oryctol's approval of their stay. "Are the survivors."

"Surely you're not thinking of staying here forever?" she asked him, a slight confusion in her voice.

"Heavens, no. Just until the man is off our trail…"

He didn't get to finish. Oryctol's Captain of Owsla, Appletree, moved in to their defence with alarm. As he spoke, his one blue eye flared. "You brought a man to our warren? Good Frith and Inlé!"

Timothy turned to Oryctol in amazement, but the doe did not seem to go along with her Captain's opinion. "A man will not touch a warren not on his land, nor will he bother to do so. I don't see any cause for alarm, Captain."

Appletree gaped at her in disbelief, but Timothy knew he would leave soon, and he did. Oryctol was hard to argue with, especially if she'd made a point. When he'd left she turned back to him and said, "Forgive him. You can stay as long as you wish."

"We won't be more than several days."

She nodded and turned to one of her rabbits. "See to it that each of Timothy's rabbits are given a place to rest—we have enough extra burrows as it is." She turned back to him and gave him a wry smile. "We've sent a lot of the youngsters southward to find their own warren. Inléthlay's huge land-wise but our numbers are quite small now."

"Maybe I should have done that…"

"Now, Timothy, don't bother regretting things like that. Come on—we'll talk in my burrow. I have some _flay-rah_ on hand, I suppose you don't get enough of that in your place?"

Timothy followed her to her burrows. It was small and compact, consisting only of a run and two burrows, compared to the larger Primrose-rah burrow system, seeing as to Inléthlay had always been a big warren. She looked around for a while, then led him to one of the burrows, lined with bedding. A couple of carrots lay on sight.

"Eat up. My home's as good as yours," she said.

Out of courtesy he nibbled a bit, before replying, "Thanks." He was quiet for a moment. "How long has it been?"

"Oh, eight seasons? We're both old rabbits." This time it was her turn to be silent, and to break the uneasiness between them he took another bite of carrot then offered it to her. She shook her head.

"How's it been with you?" he asked.

"Oh, this and that, you know. Since the warren came under my rule it's been always work here, work there. Pretty dull life, but hey, it's what we all do." She gave a deep sigh. "I really didn't think I'd see you again, though, even after I've received news of Ghost's death. How is…Hop?"

The carrot suddenly seemed bitter to his taste and it took all his effort to prevent him from choking on it. "She…she's dead," he finally said, his head turned away from her.

There was a brief pause. Then he felt her paw on his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"It's—quite okay…"

"Timothy. Timothy. Oh Timothy, do you think…?"

Then the burrow became a place of hostility. He bounded outside and turned to her, a sharp look on his face, and it was here he smelled the air properly and knew she was in season. "No, no, Oryctol, maybe if she died when I was younger? Maybe if we met under different circumstances? I told you this before—she means too much to me. I spent too little time with her before she died. No, you mean a lot to me, very much, but right now—I can't taint her memory…"

"Yes. I guess…"

"I have a son." There was a brief pause, to which he could hear her ears flicking back and forth. "He—he looks too much like his mother."

"I'm sorry…"

"No, I'm sorry."

"I love you."

His brows furrowed. "I love you too. But Hop meant too much to me. I love you both but…"

"You love her more."

"I'm gonna go see Quillwort. We'll leave tomorrow."

He walked forward. "You could stay as long you want," she said. "As I said, my warren's yours as it is mine…"

He looked back at her. "Thank you." Then, he turned and hopped away.

Oryctol watched his dark form leave and turned back at the walls. She gave another sigh. Rabbits shouldn't feel this way, right? She shook her head. Maybe. Yet even if she could never have him she knew she would still love him as she had always done.

***

"What happened to you?" Quillwort asked, sniffing Timothy's muzzle. The rabbit looked dishevelled, and something heavier than usual seemed to be weighing in his mind, which wasn't common to him. He went so far to sniff Timothy's neck, and at that moment the rabbit lunged at him with teeth bared.

"Nothing," Timothy said before his teeth made contact with Quillwort's skin. Quillwort drew back and waited until Timothy had crouched before he sat in front of him, his snout low. "I don't know where we're going. What do you suggest?"

"Forest."

He rubbed his forepaws on his muzzle as he waited for Timothy's surprised reply. "Forest?"

"Yes," he answered. "Forest. We'll ask for Hazel's help. He might have some suggestions. And it'll be good to visit the place while we're at it. If we're—if we're moving we might not see it again."

"Yes…" Timothy said, turning the matter over his mind, or so Quillwort thought. "Yes…we'll go to Forest. I haven't seen Hazel for a season or two. Yes. Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"We'll go to Forest. Tomorrow."


	12. 

** 12**

True to his word, he left by twilight of the next day. Oryctol was there to bade him goodbye, and he would have gone on giving her only a nod or two, but decided to go to her anyway. They locked gazes for a moment, then Timothy nudged her muzzle with his nose. "Bye."

"A sentry told me your man passed by this morning. He should be well gone by now, but I suggest you take a different route."

"Yes, we will."

There was a brief pause. Then, she asked, "I won't see you again, won't I?"

He knew she didn't expect an answer but he replied, anyway. "Mm-hmm…probably not. I'm old, you know." He smiled at her with his eyes shut, and felt the rough touch of her paw against his cheek.

"We still might. Under Frith's shine, where your Hop is waiting for you." He opened his eyes and saw her smile back at him in the same way. When she opened her eyes the sorrow in them was imminent. It hurt him to know he caused it yet could do nothing to drive it away.

"Yes."

"I've sent some Owsla to help you till you reach Forest. You don't mind that, do you?"

"Not at all." He smirked at her—something he rarely did nowadays. "Well, I'm off. I'll send your officers back as safe as I can." With a nod he made his way towards the head of the group and set off.

***

It is hard to explain in detail of their long trekking, for as rabbits, journeying for hours on end was unnatural, and their habits tended to be varied depending on their moods and situation. But for the most part, they would hop on for several hours (in shamelessly the slowest migrating pace any animal could manage), and provided there was a suitable spot to do so, dug scrapes and temporary burrows were they slept for the same length of time. It was a tedious journey, more so for the leaders, who were responsible for making sure the Owsla were in their right spots, the others nice and quiet, and that no _elil_ could find them as much as possible. Timothy, to whom every snout was pointed at in times of dire need, had it the worst, and for the entire length of their journey he was to have no more than three hours of proper sleep each day. The rest of the time he had to make due with napping during meetings, or even (in a rapidly developing habit) in the middle of a rather boring talk.

Following Oryctol's advice, Timothy followed a route a long ways from the area that the man had been seen about. Fortunately, it wasn't so difficult—they went east from the fields Inléthlay, crossing a narrow stream along the way, where then they had to proceed north wise from thereon. Naturally they didn't follow it all too well—at some point the rabbits that walked ahead of Timothy (elite members of the Wide Patrol recommended by Captain Elderberry himself, who told the rest where the safest and most proper way to go was) got lost, and after nine long days, found they had led the rabbits to another stream, eastwards, not north at all. It was a different than the one they had recently crossed, of course, or else Timothy would have skinned them alive had they simply led the rabbits in a huge circle, but fortunately the Chief recognized it as one leading near the heart of Forest itself, and let them away with no more than a mere scolding. After all, now the going would be easy, and he wouldn't be needing their help as much now that all they had to do was follow the course of the stream. No one knew who was more relieved, Timothy or the patrollers themselves.

***

To Seed, whose longest trek had been when he and Lang-it had gone off as kittens, everything was exhausting. His feet were not used to the rough trails, and worse still, so was he. Everything seemed to loom over him in an intimidating way—their second night he'd squealed his lungs out at the mere shadow of a tree. It was only when he was asleep that his fur was not standing on end, and the smallest touch would turn him paralysed, choking and trembling with fear. The security of the burrows were gone, and the young rabbit was fully exposed to the dangers of the outside, the _outside_, which killed his mother, and took his Ghost-rah and Willow-marli away when there was no one to know of it. His fear of everything was understandable.

All the comfort he had was Lang-it, which was why on the eleventh night of their travel (where earlier that day they have found the stream leading to Forest), he crouched huddled against the grey doe, their fur seemingly one against the faint glimmer of Inlé. Primrose had gone off to talk to Timothy on the matter of their shelter night—they haven't found any, and the ground was unsuitable for digging in. All that hid them from any _elil_ was the thick, long grass, and the darkness of the starless night.

"Seed?"

He was half-asleep when he heard it, and was unsure whether it was from the dream he was having. Grumbling, he waved one paw and flinched.

"…Seed…"

In his dream there was a doe, whose face was unrecognizable, almost obscured in the shadows. She waved a paw at him and said, "Seed…rah." He didn't know why but he didn't like hearing the Rah part. He moved towards her and she disappeared, and he stepped back, unsure of what was happening.

And then there was a flicker of orange-red light, and the shadows moved and gathered until they became a rabbit so black his eyes strained just to see it. Then its eyes flashed open, and its eyes were red, and as it walked towards him it reeked of death and blood. "I will take all," the rabbit said, and its voice was dark and frightening. "All."

There was a flash, and he could see the hawk coming from the sky, and he could see it up close—which then he wished and prayed he hadn't. The hawk was a monster. Its eyes were of the same, blood red colour, and its face was hideous. Worse still was what it held in its talons—a dead, mangled rabbit, whose head, hanging down only by a strip of flesh, turned and looked at him. It was his mother.

"Everything you love…"

A dark grey rabbit with lighter pelt around his neck stood by him then disappeared.

"Everything you care about…"

Juniper's dead body appeared beside him. He sat, trembling and with mouth agape, at the rushing scenes.

"All…"

Primrose-rah's hill crumbled into dust.

"_All_…"

"Seed, snap outta' it!"

He jerked up, panting, his eyes glazed. The details of the dream had started to become hazy, but he could still hear the voice hoarsely saying, "I will take all. Everything you love…"

A shiver ran its way through his body.

"You okay?"

He finally took notice of Lang-it, and turned to her, touching her cheek with his nose. "Yes…"

"You had a bad dream, huh?"

"T-T-There w-was a black rabbit and he said…he-he said, that he'd take…t-take everything I care about…" He swallowed and stared at her face.

"That's some great nonsense you've got there, Seed," she replied in her usual nonchalant way. Lang-it was difficult to impress and frighten. Everyone knew this was inherited from Ghost, though when he was calm and cool, they often say she was calm and warm.

"But Lang," he reasoned, and he shivered again. "It was true, wasn't it? Mother, the warren, Juniper, Willow and Chief…"

Her head lowered at the mention of the last three, and he suddenly regretted saying them. But even as he was thinking of how to live through the next hour or so of Lang-it's imminent sulkiness, she lifted it again and said, "You're stupid. I'm still here, aren't I?"

"But…"

"Well, unless _you_ don't care for me." She gave him a look, which he could see in the faint light, and he cowered beneath it.

"Actually, I do."

"So?"

"Does that mean I'm going to lose you too…"

She burst into a fit of giggles. He lay flattened until she stopped, by which she pawed his face in a gentle manner. "Oh Seed! You lose me? The warren lose _me_? We have a much better chance of seeing Inlé at daylight than you losing me…"

"We do see Inlé in daylight…"

She ignored him. "My point being, you will never lose me. Just the thought of that makes me want to laugh for seasons on end."

"I don't want to be alone, Lang."

He watched her cock her head at him inquisitively. "Okay, let's make a deal." He raised his brows. "If I do die, which is waaay like impossible, then I'll haunt you. So you'll always have my ghost…"

At the mention of the word, her father's name, she flinched, and Seed, confused, could see a look of anger cross her face for a moment. Then she said, "Anyway, I was waking you up 'cause I wanted you to come with me and find a bite to eat. I hate this grass. It's revolting. I'd rather be eating gravel than this kind of stuff. Let's see if we can find some sort of tasty plant somewhere."

"I don't think that's a very good…"

"No, of course you don't. Seed's _scared_."

"I'm just being cautious." He flicked his ears.

"Seed is _sca-ared_."

He wrinkled his nose. "Stop acting like a kitten, Lang."

"Well, okay, you stay here nice and safe and I'll go fill my belly for a while." She walked off in a ridiculously slow pace.

Seed groaned. He wasn't stupid, and he hadn't been with Lang-it all her life for nothing. "Stop guilt-tripping me," he said, following her footsteps. "Okay, but we won't go far. Not far, you hear me."

"I hear you," she said in a sing-song voice.

He growled. "I hate you, Lang."

She turned back to him and pressed her nose against his, a smile on her face. "The feeling is mutual. Now let's go get a proper meal."

***

They had found a patch of better grass some distance away from the rest and set about to it. Seed, who'd tried his best to persuade her to eat the grass they'd found a little nearer to the others (she said the grass was _too_ stringy, though he thought it was fine) had to content himself on nibbling with his senses heightened. Inlé was right above them, half-hidden behind swirls of grey clouds.

"They must be leaving," he remarked.

She chewed thoughtfully for a few moments, then said, "Then why aren't you running and screaming like Inlé just came and tweaked your tail?"

"For a young doe you talk too much."

"For a young buck you complain too much."

"Look who's talking."

She pushed his shoulder with her nose before resuming her feeding. Seed looked around for a few moments and then, bored, followed her example.

The night air was cold, but having nothing else better to do the two young rabbits continued to graze, exchanging few words and many glances. As the hours ticked by, Seed felt his belly getting heavier, and taking this as a sign, stood and nudged Lang-it with his nose.

The wind blew, and both rabbits shivered. Dry leaves danced around them as Seed's nose scented the air. "Lang…" he said. "Lang…can you smell anything?"

"Good Frith Seed, do you even groom yourself…"

"That's not me Lang." His voice was stricken, and he could see that Lang-it was beginning to take it seriously. His fur began to rise. "That's…t-that's…"

"Black and white be _lendril_, dogs barely speak, stalking goes with _ pfeffil_, _hombil_ always reek…" Lang-it muttered. It was a common rhyme taught to kittens to lecture them on the ways of the _elil_, and now upon hearing it they were both aware of what was going on.

Seed got over the trance that was shaking him moments earlier. His ears set back, he nudged Lang-it. "Come on!" he said. "Run!"

They crashed against the bushes.

Behind them came a high-pitched yapping as a fox, hidden moments earlier, began to give chase. Seed closed his eyes and doubled his speed. Where he went no longer mattered. His heart hammered against his chest—his instincts, waken by the fox's stench, rushed into him full-strength, yelling, commanding, "Run, run, _run_!"

He ran like the wind.

But then his paw touched a rock, and his feet slipped beneath him. He crashed down, just in time to see a grey blur pass by him and stop in its tracks. "Seed!" Lang-it cried, going back to him. She grazed her nose against his chest. His paw, injured against the rock, throbbed with pain, and his breathing began to get laboured.

He knew well how hard it was for Lang-it to go against her nature and help him. Biting his lip so as to stop him from crying out, he murmured, "Go!"

"But…"

"I said _go_!"

"No way. You aren't Chief yet and you can't order me around. Now get up!" She nudged his belly. "Up! Up! The _homba _is coming!"

He tried, but fell. He hadn't even gathered his breath yet when the same, high-pitched yap closed in on them, and the stench came upon them like thick mist. He turned around and spotted the fox racing at them.

He heard Lang-it praying fervently below her breath.

But as the fox prepared to leap something else barrelled into it. With wide-open eyes the two watched as a rabbit began to tear at it like nothing, blood spurting on all directions. Then, there was a quick yelp, and the fox disappeared into the darkness, its tail clamped firmly below its hindquarters.

Seed turned to the newcomer, who told them, "You two from the group?"

He nodded, too dumbstruck to speak.

"What the Inlé are you doing here, anyway? They've walked off earlier." From the rabbit's voice and scent Seed could tell it was a doe, about a year old, and there was no touch of fear on her anywhere—remarkable seeing as she'd just tackled a fox. Without aid of his ears or nose he could've sworn that, in the moonlight, she was a buck…

He swallowed. "But the fox…how…"

"That? You call that a fox? That was a fox cub, amateurs." She approached them, and now he could get a good look at her face. She sniffed at him. "You're Seed, aren't you? Timothy's son?"

"Yes…"

"Good Frith, and they almost left you behind. Though what good that may have brought the warren." Seed lifted his brows, confused, and was about to ask a question when she cut him off. "Well, it's not my problem anyway, it's not even my warren. Get up. Are you injured?"

"He slipped," Lang-it said. Then, her friendliness struck. "What's your name? And you said it's not your warren…"

"I'm Useth, one of the Owsla Oryctol-rah sent to help your warren out." She approached him by the side and nudged him up. Seed, now that his fear was waning, stumbled to his feet and leaned against her slightly. She was half a hair bigger than he was, and for a moment he thought his size was such a pathetic thing. "Get on with it—they don't know you're missing and they won't wait for you."

"Yes, get moving, Seed. By the way—my name is Lang-it." The grey doe smiled as they walked back to the trail the others had left behind.

"Is he your brother?" she asked, eyeing the staggering buck beside her.

"Thankfully, not my biological one, or I would have been as clumsy as he is."

He snapped her a look. "Hey…"

***

Ordinarily, Useth didn't like patrolling alone, no matter how short the distance was from the main base. To her it was one of the most dangerous jobs in the Owsla—being alone meant she had to rely on her own senses to locate danger, and on her own brains to dispel it if it does come. And one rabbit usually wasn't enough to do anything constructive. It was pure luck that the fox she'd scented earlier, following that of the two rabbits, had been nothing more than a baby—a fierce cub learning how to hunt, but a baby nonetheless.

Or maybe it wasn't anymore lucky than stumbling in a living fox's den. The nine-month-old had been in the Owsla for almost two seasons, and that long had given her the ability to think through situations. Cubs have mothers, don't they? She glanced sharply around her shoulder, her nose rapidly scenting the air. And mothers were fiercer than anything else when their cubs were harmed…

"Quicker," she said, though she did not mention what was on her mind. The initial truth might shock the two younger rabbits and render them immoveable. She paced forward and paused. She could hear the trickling of water in the background.

"The stream," she said.

"Good, all we have to do now is follow it," Seed said.

Useth was about to go on ahead when something struck her. "Wait," she muttered, stepping in front of Seed. She wasn't about to lead the fox back to the others—it would be unethical, and the Inléthlay Owsla never approved of such negligence. "We'll cross the stream."

"We'll _what_?" Lang-it asked.

"We'll cross the stream."

"I heard it the first time. Why?"

"Yes, w-why?" Seed repeated after her. Useth wrinkled her nose, aware that Seed knew something was wrong.

"Cross first and I'll tell you later," she said, and strode forward to test the water. One touch and she cringed. It was freezing cold—the night did them no justice. The younger rabbits were aware of this fact too, and Seed voiced it out.

"It's too dark. We won't know where to go."

"I'm an Owsla. I've handled this sort of things before." Actually, she hadn't, she thought miserably, prodding the water with one paw again. She'd crossed water before but nothing questionable like this one, and not when Inlé was shining overhead.

"Ugh, I don't want to get wet," Lang-it said.

"It's not getting wet that's a problem. What if there's a pike in there or something?"

"If there is we'll know, and I can't exactly smell anything." Useth was getting impatient, knowing the fox would well be catching up to them now. She bit her lip and deciding it was better to die doing something than not, plunged into the water.

"Is she crazy?" Lang-it cried.

The coldness penetrated her fur, and Useth began to shiver. Her eyes could see nothing save the blurry water and the dashes of moonlight upon it. Summoning all her strength, the doe began to walk across the water, her feet grazing against the cold, wet mud beneath her.

As the water grew deeper she began to swim. Thankfully the stream wasn't that wide, and moments later she found herself on the bank, coughing and shivering, her fur half-frosted from the cold. She waited for a while, then regained her breath and looked up at the other side. "If you two aren't coming I might as well go."

On the bank across, Seed and Lang-it stared incredulously at the older doe. "She _ is_ crazy," Lang-it said. "Why do we even have to cross?" she yelled, loudly.

Useth bit her lip. Sometimes there was a bad thing to having princes and princesses. They were too royal to be ordered around, yet too ignorant to know of the facts. She looked behind her and spotted an old tree stump, covered with moss. Bracing herself, she leaped on top of it and peered towards the other end of the stream.

It was too dark to see anything more than the top of Seed and Lang-it's heads, but that was no obstruction. Her attention was fixated on the movement of the leaves, and that she watched for several moments. When all her training told her it was nothing but the wind, she turned back to the two and decided to tell them.

"There's a fox behind you!"

"Like that would work…" Lang-it began, before the wind blew past, stronger than before, and ruffled the bushes behind her. Her instincts awakened. "I'm outta' here!" she cried, leaping from where she sat and landing in the middle of the stream. The sudden cold struck her, and in a panicked decision began to kick the water as she started to sink.

Useth, watching from the bank, called, "_Walk_! Walk in the damn water! Don't worry about the cold—walk in the damn water!"

She didn't know whether the doe heard her or not, but to her relief saw that Lang-it had managed to reach it to the bank. She turned to the buck. "Aren't _you_ going to cross?" she asked.

Seed bit his lip. Lang-it had already crossed. He would never have thought of it had she been here with him, but he knew that Lang-it's stubbornness wouldn't persuade her to come back after all the trouble she'd gone through just crossing. And he was eager to be by her side again, as any dependent kitten. "Wait…" he said, and gingerly waded into the stream.

The relief that tore across Useth's heart quickly diminished as she nudged the drenched rabbits across the ground. "Was it true there's a _hombil_ behind us?" Lang-it asked her as they hopped off, following the flow of the water. Useth nodded in reply.

"I think. The cub's mother's probably after us."

She saw Seed glance at her. "But…"

"Don't worry, if we come across it I can handle it," though again she was unsure of the truth behind her reply. She licked her lips. Sometimes lying for assurance's sake was the best way to go with rabbits like these.

"But why did we have to cross?" Seed asked.

"I wouldn't want to lead the fox straight to the others. I thought crossing the stream would somehow prevent it from following us, since the water wouldn't hold our scents long."

"I guess that's logical," Seed replied. "D-Do you think we can catch up with them?"

"My feet hurt," Lang-it complained.

"No, they're too far off," Useth said, after a moment's pause. She shrugged. "We'll find a spot to rest. They can't be too difficult to trace—they did say follow the stream didn't they? Unless this thing stops somewhere then that won't be a problem."

"Nope. It goes right into Forest territory," Seed said, though he hadn't been to Forest before, knowing the fact only from the leaders' frequent talks.

They were silent after that as they continued on, ears alert, and as the night waned on the only sounds they caught were the occasional chattering of a squirrel and the trickling of the water that flowed on beside them.


	13. 

** 13**

Seven days.

Seven gruelling days, not as worse as the short two days of entrapment within the warren, but gruelling all the same, where the rabbits ran themselves ragged, the wrath of the Black Rabbit ever present as he took old and young rabbits alike, death here, sickness there, always moans of pain and exhaustion everywhere. Smiles were long gone amongst the group, laughter replaced by curses and cries, and there was that doubt that threatened the back of everyone's mind that, no matter how near Forest and its safety may seem, they wouldn't live through this, no, no, and the thought that they may be pushing themselves for nothing's sake continued to slow down the course of the entire journey.

But though few noticed the light it was still there, shining down on them patiently every day, a trace still at night, and through the ever-vigilant leaders—Elderberry's wide patrols, Cotton's amateur but otherwise proper lead of the peace officers, Bracken's constant posting of ever-alert sentries, Quillwort's organization of the entire Owsla, and Timothy's overall watch over everyone as a whole—they somehow managed to live through. Which was why, as the seven days passed, their limbs weary and their fur dishevelled, and the rabbits were thinking of how their toil would never end and that Frith's shine was nothing more but an ever-present mockery, they reached the end of a copse.

Timothy did not even notice. He'd been walking near the head of the group, his legs burning and almost numb, his eyes downcast from want of sleep, his ears held back as he limped on. He was near insanity—every step brought jolts of pain throughout his entire body…and yet his was the courage unrivalled by any other rabbit in the group, for he continued to mutter, "One more bloody step, one more bloody step," unsure of whether he was speaking to the others or to himself. He had given up hope many times in the past few days, but he had never retained it for more than a few moments. There were far too many eyes behind him. His downfall would be theirs. There was no other choice but to move on.

"Sir."

He shoved it off, tottering near the edge of sleep. For a moment he thought he was dreaming. Dark shadows, flickering and moving in and out of his vision. Then it _was_ a dream. Blood, everywhere, dying rabbits all throughout, and then he saw _himself_, the young Timothy, staring wide-eyed as officers threw themselves at each other and slew without a moment's thought. The images were blurry. Then he heard a voice, sinister and dark, and he recognized it as something nearing the voice of Cherry, long-dead Chief of Quieflain…

"_Finish what was started_."

"_Sir_."

"Shut up!"

He suddenly snapped into consciousness, and lifted his head in time to meet the mortified gaze of Carrot, one of the trackers. A tinge of remorse touched him, and then he shook it off and asked in a rough voice, "What was it? And this better be quick."

"I believe…sir…that we're in Forest now…"

He turned to what lay in front of him. What would have been a terrifying scene for a rabbit—a woodland with close-growing trees where the shadows were strewn all over no matter what the hour was—became nothing less than blessed to his eyes. He turned around and smirked. "Right. We're here."

He walked forward, then heard a "But…" and turned around again. "What is it now?" he said, a touch of irritation on his voice.

The rabbit that had spoken went forward, snout held low in respect. "Sir. It's too dark there. If it was anywhere near those copses near the hill, we wouldn't be unwilling too…but sir, it's just that…"

Timothy didn't have time for this, and it hurt him, though he did not acknowledge the feeling, that the rabbits he was trying to protect had less trust in him than he'd accounted them for. He snarled and in a quick loss of temper cuffed the rabbit in front of him. "Oh?" he said. "This is what you bloody lots feel now? After all this time you're just going to back down because of a measly forest? Tell you what—you idiots stay here, that's quite okay, because there's a bloody monster in there that's going to eat you all up once it sees you, and it's larger than a _hrududu_, stinks like a _homba_, and has a bloody rat for a face!"

He paused, panting for breath as the rabbits stared wide-eyed at him.

"I was being sarcastic!"

There was a gentle, "Oh," from a few.

"I've had it!" With a look of dismay Timothy disappeared into the copse, almost concealed within the shadows that blended well with his dark fur. Quillwort, watching Timothy go, sighed and turned to the rest just as the Chief had done.

"Forest Warren is within this woodland. It's no more than a day's travel from here." He lifted a lip. "Timothy's right though. You lots better stay here. You'll all be eaten by that big bloody monster called _fear_, and seeing as to how wussies you are you can't handle anything like that."

He followed Timothy.

The rabbits looked at each other, whispering amongst themselves. A few braver rabbits followed Timothy and Quillwort's trail, but all the rest remained for several hours, until they realized how much they sorely missed Timothy's badgering, and it hit them on how true his and Quillwort's words were. Under someone's urging they each entered the boundaries of Forest's territory.

***

"Right. We're days behind," Useth said, loud enough for Lang-it and Seed to hear. She turned to face them, lowering her ears. "Listen to me you two. I don't know how long your folks will stay in that Forest Warren, but we've got to hurry up—if we delay ourselves any longer they might be gone once we're there." She snorted, seeing that the only signs they were listening was Seed's frequent ear-flicking, "Right. I don't really care. Forest's my last stop till I go back to Inléthlay. You two can get left behind if you want to."

That worked. The two lifted their heads and hopped towards her. "We'd be a whole lot faster if _only_ Seed would stop stuffing himself," Lang-it said.

Useth sighed as they walked on. "As they say in our Owsla, put blaming as a last resort."

Wondering aloud, Seed muttered, "What would Quillwort say to that?"

***

Timothy and Quillwort arrived hours earlier than all the rest, and by then the leaders of Forest had already been alerted to their presence. In the darkness of early morning Timothy could smell and make out the faint shape of Captain Hazel, the Chief assigned to Forest in the tradition Ghost had begun with Onion. He met the rabbit, touching noses with him, then lifted his snout higher than the other's. Hazel, out of respect, licked his lower jaw.

"It's good to see you again," Hazel said as he lowered his head to meet the Captain's eyes.

"Same here," he replied, before looking about for a moment at the clearing. There were few changes from what he'd seen last—trees near the border, a couple by the centre along with a fallen, rotting trunk of some five or six years old. Rabbits, alerted and curious of their arrival—for visitors were rare in the isolated warren of Forest—sat staring at him, ears and paws up.

Hazel's voice made him look back. "So what brings you here?"

"Tragedy had befallen Primrose-rah. We're here for shelter." Timothy paused for a moment, waiting to see if Hazel would reply, and when he did not continued. "A man has moved into the farm. There were ferrets and dogs. We have a few survivors. They're on their way here right now."

"If my scouts were right, there are quite a few of you," Hazel said. Timothy noted a hint of hostility in the rabbit's voice and by instinct his stance stiffened, and he raised his ears higher. "But I'm sure we'll find space…"

"We won't be staying for long. No more than a week, maybe less. Three days—yes, three days. Long enough for us to find a direction and a new warren." Timothy lifted his eyebrows. "Unless you have something against that?"

"No, of course not," was Hazel's reply. At least there was no direct hostility, Timothy thought grimly. "I'll lead you to your own private burrow now, if you want. There's not much space here and many of your rabbits may have to sleep outside, but of course I can provide you and your higher Captains proper burrows."

"Thank you, but not yet. I'll wait for the rest."

With a nod, Hazel left them to hurry back down underground. His rabbits followed suit, and save for a few scattered scouts, Timothy and Quillwort were left alone. An owl hooted not far from where they were.

"Sure do hope none of those morons get killed," Timothy sighed. He made a spot in the grass and settled down to feed. The grass, in lieu of autumn, was not any better than the ones outside, but it was enough for him.

Quillwort sat nearby, deep in thought. A few moments later he held up a paw and asked, "You seem to be a little cautious of Hazel back there."

"Was it that obvious?" Timothy asked, looking up from his food. "He's threatened by our sudden arrival. I'm concerned of our three days' stay here."

"Three days is still pretty short," Quillwort admitted. "Timothy. Timothy, I didn't want to say this but we're all as good as dead. Journeying out there to Frith-knows-where with few experienced rabbits on tow, and nearly everyone yammering about something or another. And three days of rest? Couldn't you have asked for a month? It is still _our_ warren."

He breathed on the grass, deeply. "You think I want them to get on with this tiresome journey? Of course not. But a month will alarm Hazel. He'll think we want to invade this place—think we'll just push his rabbits away and settle ours in. Then what? Maybe he'll let it be. But that's something no leader in his right mind would do—you know that and I know that. He'll raise a war. Rabbits die."

He stopped talking to look at his Captain. Quillwort's brows were furrowed—he knew the rabbit understood. "Right. You don't want another war, especially not with an ally," Quillwort told him. "But still…it's our warren…"

"By word alone," Timothy said. "By every rights it's Hazel's warren and as far as everything's concerned we're just visitors." He sat up. "Right. You better go check on those bloody morons."

Shrugging, Quillwort went off, leaving him alone in the grass. A rabbit, some sort of Forest Captain, approached him and began to chat about the weather and the quality of grass they were having this autumn, and he nodded out of respect. But he couldn't hear now. He was half-lost in the storm of his swirling thoughts, keeping only enough consciousness to prevent him from completely ignoring the rabbit. Three days. Then what? Where would he lead the rabbits? To Frith-forsaken lands where all they were to do was shrivel like plants before winter? He'd discuss it with the high-rankers of the Owsla, of course, and they'd have ideas, but all in the end everything, _everything_, was up to him. _Him_.

Why couldn't it bloody be someone else?

He'd pursued the same train of thought before, in the past, when he was young and stupid and a little innocent, and had learned that he was to be the next Chief. "Can't you have another son then? Please?" Even as a kitten he knew, had known for a long time—from his mother's stories and perhaps from the royal ancestors in his bloodline—of the responsibilities associated with Chiefhood. But Ghost had said he had no other choice.

He would have said the same thing now. And Timothy, though his heart was heavy and full of pain, knew he would accept that as it was.

"There are of course, still some dandelions by the Quieflain area, we go there sometimes to feed…hey, here's your rabbits…"

At the rabbit's words he began to hop towards the edge of the clearing, where the copse ended. From the darkness he saw the rabbits appear, many of them, all of them, looking at him expectantly with a brightness he had never seen in their eyes before. They stopped, and he was taken aback.

"Look Chief," one rabbit called. "We're sorry."

"Stop the apologies and get your bloody asses over to the grass and _feed_," he quickly said, and the rabbits obeyed without hesitation. He watched them with stern eyes, furrowed brows, and half-curled lips, but deep in his heart he knew that he would never leave them, that he would try his best not to fail them, for they were under his care and he…

He loved them.

The realization hit him full blast.

He really loved them. Idiots as they were, quick to trust yet quick to doubt, doing nothing constructive and always complaining—there was no denying that when worse comes to worst he would lay his life and soul for them, fight against the Black Rabbit himself, give them his own hide if there was nothing more to give. And though he didn't know it he had reached a turning point where his leadership became ultimate, and few Chiefs living or dead could have then rivalled the burning emotion in his heart for the rabbits he was willing to live and die for.

***

Once again Forest's surface was covered with rabbits, but where twice before it had been a pool of blood and full of the stagnant smell of death, now there was bliss, heavy bellies, flickering eyelids, and eager chattering as dawn arrived at last and began to drive away the darkness with Frith's soft, orangey light. To Timothy, it was a rare opportunity for sleep, and sleep he did, in a comfortable burrow Hazel had given to him, and it was so deep and undisturbed that when he did wake up his stomach was growling fiercely, and the sky was turning purple.

A meal settled him, and the moment that was over Hazel strode to where he was and greeted him by touching his nose. "Good afternoon," Hazel said.

"I must say, Forest is looking well," Timothy replied, and he meant it. He was full and refreshed—there was no need for suspicion or sarcasm at the moment.

"Ah, Frith favours us, and I hope He does through the winter." Hazel smiled at him. "In any case there's a meeting in my burrow right now, and it wouldn't exactly be a meeting without you, my Lord."

Ignoring Hazel's praise with a nod, he followed the rabbit through another entrance. It led to a large burrow—unlike the warrens he was used to, Forest rabbits usually only got one, but a very big, burrow, instead of a number of smaller ones. Inside he sensed Quillwort, Elderberry, Cotton, and two rabbits he thought were from Hazel's Owsla. He greeted them all before crouching down his customary spot beside Quillwort.

They talked. For them it was leadership-matters, but for some rabbits it usually was just plain garbled gossip, very well disguised, but otherwise gossip, like most rabbits would do whenever they feel talkative. Nevertheless it was very important as they discussed options of where to go, Hazel showing himself to be helpful in that he pointed out a particular field Timothy's rabbits could shelter in, some miles north of Quieflain.

"Unfortunately," Hazel quickly added. "The field is very small and would never suit as a permanent home for any large band of rabbits, and the wide patrol had reported that man would come there from time to time…"

"Right. But it would suit us a good place to rest in for sometime," Quillwort intervened. "Maybe a week or so, Timothy-rah? Long enough for them to get a proper rest, which three days here isn't enough…"

"Now, that is unfair, Captain Quillwort!"

The sudden snap made Timothy turn his head sideways and give a small sigh. The rabbit that had just spoken was Groundsel, Hazel's brother and consort in leadership matters. He'd been a pleasant enough buck earlier on, although he thought he felt him seething beneath his breath, and now he could clearly sense the rising tension between him and Quillwort. Timothy was about to say something, but Quillwort had taken the initiative and spoke up first, in defence.

"What are you trying to imply?" There was the faintest hint of a snarl in Quillwort's otherwise steady voice.

"What are _you_ trying to imply?" Groundsel repeated in mockery. "You know as well as we do that any longer _your _rabbits stay here the more likely they will tear our field into bits and terrorize our rabbits…"

"_Your_ rabbits?" Quillwort gushed out. Now Timothy knew he was losing it, for he felt the rabbit rise from where he'd been crouching and smell the anger seething through the thickening air.

"Quillwort," Timothy warned.

Ignoring him, Quillwort continued. "_Your_ rabbits? Might you forgot, Groundsel, that _you_ are still under Timothy's rule here, and that if we want _our_ rabbits to share territory with _anyone_ we can do just that?"

"Quillwort!" Timothy cried, his angry tone echoing through the walls. He slammed one paw against the floor. "If all you two will do is bark at each other all day like badgers in a mating fight then I might as well conclude this bloody meeting!"

There was a deep sigh and Timothy raised his ears just in time to hear Quillwort padding away. He knew the rabbit was very mad, but he didn't even give a damn, not right now. He turned his head to Groundsel's direction and sniffed—he was gone as well, for all that remained of his scent was the empty one that clung against the earthen walls.

"_The bloody meeting is over_," Timothy hissed at his remaining rabbits. Elderberry left, and Cotton, ears slunk back and body held low, whispered a quiet apology though he hadn't done anything and left as well. Spearwort, Hazel's Captain of Owsla, followed them, leaving the Timothy and Hazel alone.

"I was going to say something more," Hazel said, his voice a little hesitant because of Timothy's outburst. "But I don't know if you'd want to hear it right now…"

"Go on," Timothy said.

"Well, Bugle-rah from Quieflain, as you remember him from your last visit—he sent a messenger earlier on after you've arrived. Apparently he'd heard all the news and was very eager to tell you that he'd have something that can help you find a new warren." Hazel paused under Timothy's doubtful gaze. "I don't know exactly what that is, but I was hoping you'd want to find out."

"Bugle dislikes anyone refusing his help…" Timothy mused, his anger over Quillwort and Groundsel's dispute momentarily gone. "But the journey to Quieflain would take a day, two days back and forth…"

"Look, whatever Groundsel said, ignore that," Hazel said, and his voice was reason enough for Timothy to continue trusting him. "You can stay here for weeks if you want…don't worry, just go see what Bugle wants. The messenger said he _ specifically_ wanted to see you."

"That's him all right." Timothy drew a sigh and got up. "Well, I guess I have no other choice. Thank you."

***

He left without much concern, knowing the rabbits were safe enough with Hazel and Quillwort (even though he was angry with the rabbit) about. Timothy went alone, although his Captains insisted he take an officer or two for safety. At the suggestion, the old rabbit had another fit and had walked off muttering, "Dumb rabbits don't think I can take care of myself…I'll show them…"

Careless though his decision might be in the eyes of many he was right. Years of experience had honed a rabbit such as he that, although a Chief and presumably lived a luxurious life making others do things for him, could still journey as well as any patroller. He reached the edge of Quieflain, just outside the copse that bordered Forest, without incident, and was greeted by the resident Chief Bugle with such warmth he felt right at home here.

Quieflain no longer had the appearance of a warlord's palace—or a prison. Ever since Clover, a Chief of Inléthlay, had taken it under his care it had become one of the more peaceful warrens in the district, vanquishing fear from the name of Quieflain for all of time. No longer was the warren a death-pit full of suffering and pain. The grass, even in autumn, looked lush, and there were many dandelions scattered about. The holes, of course, were still there, but the warren, in terms of the rabbits, was no longer as big as it once was. The human living in the farm nearby would come nearly every year to check on them and try to gas them dead. Of course, the rabbits would have been alerted earlier on and by the time he'd got the poison filtering through the runs more than half the rabbits had already disappeared into the copse to take refuge in Forest, returning only after the man was gone to remove the dead and dig holes all over in order to get rid of the gas. Nevertheless, though he failed to exterminate the entire warren, the man had kept their numbers in check. Quieflain was a healthy warren.

He was treated to a rare underground rabbit celebration—_flay-rah _for everyone, stories, poems, and at the end, two hours of rest in a snug burrow. It was well in the evening when he and Bugle finally got to talk to themselves, outside, where Inlé was just beginning to rise and the cloudless sky was gleaming with stars.

"Ah, you're jolly well curious as to why I asked of you, eh?" Bugle inquired once they were well settled in the long grass, crouched and chewing pellets.

"Yes," he answered.

"As I've heard your lot's going to go through a jolly good journey. Well, let me for one remind you what you probably already know—there ain't a blooming place within reach of any of our wide patrols that isn't occupied or suitable for a new warren." Bugle paused to take a bite, then smiled at Timothy. "And you do know how far my jolly old wide patrols go, don't you?"

"Past Primrose-rah even, in dead winter," Timothy recalled.

"And past that, my lots go," Bugle remarked, proudly. "And from that I'm aware that far west and south it's apparently a big expanse of human-territory. So your only options are east and north, unless you plan to go right across the humans and see what's on the other side."

"Not a chance on that," Timothy said. "So…"

Without letting him finish, Bugle replied, "My Wide Patrols are famed the best around these parts, you know that. I have an officer. He will be of great help to you. Lacks leadership skills, a little on the annoying side…"

"Oh Frith…"

Bugle laughed. "But he can find the safest trails in a _hombil_-infested country without losing a damn single rabbit, and could navigate his way in unknown territory—both of these he's done more than once, I could tell you that. I'm going to lend him to your warren."

"You mean give him to me," Timothy said grimly.

Bugle laughed again. "You can always see through me, Timothy. Yes, I've talked to him, and he's very willing to leave my warren to join yours. 'Primrose-rah Owsla don't mistreat their rabbits,' were his exact words, if I can recall properly."

"How wrong he is…" he muttered.

"Well, he doesn't have to know..."

"Why would you want to get rid of him if he's this good?" Timothy inquired.

Bugle smiled. "I don't need him. Frankly, he does have excellent skills, but our patrols are great enough as it is, and…_and_…my wide patrol leaders really don't like him around. You know, with his skill and all the high-rankers tend to get jealous of him. He's been pushed around like a runt. This is my gift to both him and you. If a sacrifice like this could save your rabbits then I'm okay with that!"

"More like a relief, that is," Timothy muttered in a voice Bugle could hear, and the hearty Chief laughed aloud again. "So, can I see this rabbit?"

"Of course you can, or else you won't be able to drag him to Forest, eh?" Bugle winked. He stood from where he'd crouched and called, "Hey, you—er, Marigold, fetch Dewdrops won't you?"

They were left in silence for a while until Dewdrops arrived. In the moonlight Timothy got to have a good look at him. He was a lanky buck of average height, long legs, short ears, and large, bright eyes that brimmed with unease for a moment, then good-nature the next. There was a healthy, thick set of whiskers around his snout, making him appear, at one point, more mouse than rabbit, and a dark patch of fur that marked the top of his nose that made him look like a dog more than anything else. "This is Officer Dewdrops of the Wide Patrol," Bugle said, passing him a look. "And Dewdrops, you know Timothy-rah of course."

"Yes sir! It's jolly well good to see you, sir!" Dewdrops exclaimed, touching noses with Timothy. Timothy was not sure whether he liked the buck or not, but if he was as good as Bugle claimed he was then he knew that he'd be dependant on him. No matter _what_ Elderberry said he knew Carrot and his team weren't good enough—after all, they did get them lost. Only time will tell if he could trust this Dewdrops.

"Very well. We're going," Timothy said.

Bugle's eyes widened. "Now?"

"I'm afraid I don't have much time," Timothy admitted. "They're expecting me soon."

Bugle rose from where he sat and he and Timothy touched noses once more. "Well, if that's the case then good bye old friend."

"We'll be staying by the field north of here for a few days," Timothy said. "If you could spare some time the rabbits would be glad to meet you."

"I might. Who knows?"

Timothy nodded, and as was his custom, left without another good bye, Dewdrops hopping beside him. The night was quiet, the shadows soft in its darkness, and the cool wind spoke of nothing wrong as it blew across their fur. Which was why his not knowing that violent storms have begun to leak its way into the peaceful society of his warren could be forgiven…


	14. 

** 14**

It had started with Quillwort and Groundsel's small argument.

Small? Perhaps in the eyes of all but these two. Quillwort was always suspicious of even the most trustworthy fellows—Groundsel was suspicious of _everyone_. The moment Timothy left for his brief visit to Quieflain there was no doubt in Quillwort's mind he would _settle_ this little affair with Groundsel, and show him who the true leaders of Forest were, for he firmly believed that the rabbit was up to no good.

That was the reason he had when, the midnight after the meeting, he found Swede outside and led the rabbit in one burrow. There, he sat back and rubbed his face with his paws for a moment, feeling Swede's intense gaze on him. He waited a few moments before he said, "I need you to do something."

Swede did not reply, but he saw the shadows move slightly and knew the rabbit was nodding. He regarded this as a sign to go on. "Groundsel. You've seen him come out of the meeting burrow earlier, haven't you?"

"Yes."

"Kill him."

***

Quillwort's orders had come as a surprise even to the usually calm Swede, but orders were orders, and the buck did nothing to show his confusion. Neither did he question Quillwort's intentions. The moment he'd emerged from the burrow he immediately set off to find Groundsel, and do what he must.

He set off across the runs, crouching at every corner to listen to the rabbits nearby and smell every scent he could. Finding Groundsel proved to be a difficult task, for he would not dare ask a rabbit and rouse the entire place into suspicion, and Forest was still a good-sized warren, a city by all means, and it would have taken Swede days to fully explore the entire place. Any other rabbit would have given up after three hours of fruitless searching, but not Swede. Swede was patience in its mortal form, and he persisted, until the hours reaped their rewards, and he stumbled upon two chattering rabbits that indirectly gave him directions to what he was looking for.

He thanked them under his breath and set off.

Kill Groundsel.

Swede wasn't nervous, nor even hesitant, but he was not so sure of his ability to carry out Quillwort's orders. Groundsel was not a large rabbit, and his face held more anxiety and caution than any rabbit he'd ever seen. Two signs that he would not be able to defend himself well—two signs that he could be killed with one blow. So the problem did not lie with the rabbit himself. It lay with his status in the warren, which meant he would have an array of guards at hand, and to break through them…?

Nevertheless he shook these all off and focused on finding Groundsel's burrow first. It took him less than an hour, and there he crouched, waiting for the right moment.

Sometime later Groundsel arrived, noisy and alone. This was more than Swede expected, and he readied himself for a leap, revealing himself from the shadows that had hid him so well. The moment Groundsel was within reach he tore at him.

Swede was a silent fighter, using the same, deadly techniques Ghost had in the past—pounce like a pfeffa, head straight for the throat. He had no desire to be stuck in a brawl for long—experience in an Owsla were the majority of rabbits were larger than he was had taught him this. Which was why, ignoring the blows Groundsel had begun to inflict on his face and chest, his jaws headed for the vulnerable spot in the rabbit's neck.

Groundsel had begun to smell of fear.

But before Swede could lock his teeth deep into Groundsel's flesh a rabbit dashed into the burrow and yelled, "An attack, sir! Quillwort's being attacked!" The initial mention of his Captain's name was enough to shock Swede—he tottered back, and this gave Groundsel time to shout orders and for the sentry to head straight for him.

It was a larger rabbit, and with Swede now locked in a deadlier battle Groundsel managed to escape from the run. Swede barely noticed him—he had already been banged hard against the walls. His senses blurred and swirled about, engulfing him in darkness…

***

Quillwort had taken care of his attackers with ease. Their mangled corpses lay not far from where he stood, watching as Groundsel emerged from one of the exits with gleaming eyes. "This is your dirty trick, eh?" he spat. "You're going to kill me?"

"_You_ were going to kill me. Your officer's body is now rotting in my burrow," Groundsel replied with a sneer. Heat began to rise within Quillwort's body as he regarded the rabbit with contempt. So Swede was caught…that snivelling coward…what right did he have to kill his best officer…?

"What _else_ did you have in mind?" Quillwort asked, ignoring Groundsel's remark about Swede. His voice rose. "You wanted to kill my Chief after that, eh?" A gasp of amazement escalated from Timothy's rabbits. Kill their Chief? Who would dare? Quillwort took advantage of this moment of doubt. "I suppose you would—then drive us all away. Think you're so smart? Think again!"

"What in Frith's name is all of this?" another voice cried out. Hazel appeared from the exit and stood staring indignantly at both of them. "Tell me!" Hazel had always been one of the softest Chiefs about—his rage was a rare sight, and Quillwort felt his hackles rising at this.

"Your _brother_," Quillwort replied, his voice covered with loathe. "Tried to have me killed. Wanted to drive away our rabbits."

"Lies, all lies," Groundsel interjected. "_He_ wanted me killed…"

"Is this argument even necessary?" Hazel cried.

"_Timothy­_ is Chief of Primrose-rah _and_ Forest!" Quillwort yelled, his ears laid back and his lips lifted to reveal his sharp incisors. "Whatever he says goes! If he says he will stay here for a week then so be it! If he says he will stay here for seasons then so be it! If he says you will all walk with your front paws for days' straight then SO BE IT!" His eyes blazing, he turned to the shocked Groundsel. "This is _his_ warren and you wretched furball have no right to be plotting behind his back, no right to _dare_ defy his orders, no right to think of this damn warren as _yours_!"

The moment he paused to catch his breath Timothy's dark face appeared beside him, confused and unsure. Panting, he gazed at his Chief for a moment, and decided against saying anything.

"What was that about this bloody warren being mine?" Timothy asked, his voice firm. For that one moment he and Quillwort had flipped sides—now he was the calm one, and Quillwort was the exploding ball of anger…

Groundsel laughed in response to Timothy's words. "I suggest you start thinking of changing your Captain of Owsla, Timothy…"

This utter defiance of their authority, the shame brought to him in front of his Chief, and the hatred that continued to pound against him were enough reasons for Quillwort to yearn for Groundsel's death. A true fighter, he did not wait to justify himself. Before Groundsel could finish talking he had lunged for the rabbit. The hate flaring in his eyes could have been enough to burn the entire place then and there.

***

Quillwort's first intention was to aim for Groundsel's throat, expecting him to be unguarded, and set the blood flowing at first strike. But Groundsel proved to be more than he bargained for—as his teeth snapped shut he saw with disdain that the rabbit had sidestepped.

"Some tricks up your ears, eh?" he snarled, turning around. "Never did like easy battles anyway!" He could hear his heart beating against his chest as he kicked at Groundsel. Twice. Groundsel shrieked and swerved away, rushing at him with bared teeth.

He kicked again, and the force sent his opponent sliding across the grass. With a roar of triumph he rushed in after him, ready to finish what he'd started…

There was a deafening cry. He saw with conviction Groundsel's Owsla rushing in to save their leader. "Out of my way, fools!" he yelled. "This is our fight! Not yours!"

They did not heed him, and his patience exceeding its limit he threw himself at them, tearing and slashing and biting and foaming at the mouth. His attacks were intense—those unlucky enough had their throats torn at first blow, others injured in such a way that they would be crippled for life. Seeing this, more of Groundsel's Owsla began to single Quillwort out and rush for him.

Forest's grounds saw war once more…

Quillwort's Owsla, standing dumbstruck by their Captain's outburst, now began to fight for him, giving Quillwort time to escape. He slunk away from the flashing teeth and claws and stood in a corner, bleeding and out of breath.

From the corner of his eyes he saw Groundsel making for escape. Roaring aloud, he tore after him. The chase did not last long—Groundsel was weak, and Quillwort was ignoring his wounds, that soon the Captain had caught up with him. He shoved Groundsel against a tree and there sank his teeth into the soft flesh around Groundsel's neck. Blood dripped down his mouth, soaking the fur around his lips as he tried to bite harder, his hate fuelling the strength that Groundsel was powerless against.

The rabbit was relaxing in his grip…the claws that had been hitting him earlier were motionless in the air. He held on, watching the rabbit's eyes burn with fury that matched his own, fury first, then fear as the recognition that he was going to die struck him, and then just whiteness…

He never had time to revel in his success. A hard paw smashed against his muzzle, allowing him to drop Groundsel's inert body as he was slammed against a root.

He gathered his wits for a few moments then clumsily got to his feet. Timothy stood nearby, his lips raised in a silent snarl. Had it been darker he would have thought his Chief was the Black Rabbit of Inlé himself.

"I…" Quillwort muttered, finding Timothy's silent gaze too shameful to bear.

Timothy ignored him. He had already turned to the rabbits and the Owsla that had stopped fighting. "Gather your family, mates, children! We'll be leaving _now_."

An outraged cry came from the crowd but he was not to be moved by his decision. He looked at them in such a way that his expression alone convinced them instantly that he was indeed serious. Then, he turned to Hazel who had been inspecting Groundsel's body.

"I did not plan this," Timothy said.

Hazel was nosing Groundsel's torn neck, then sat down and began to wipe the blood off his nose. "Neither have I."

"There cannot be two Chiefs in one warren."

"There is only one here and that is you," Hazel muttered.

Timothy hopped close to him and touched his nose. His head was on the same level as Hazel's, and this sudden drop of power caused the rabbit to gaze at him with amazement. "There are two Chiefs. There are two warrens. Mine and yours. Forest and Primrose-rah had once been united under one rule, but that is unfair. Now I give you freedom. We are still allies, we are still brothers, but we are no longer one."

"I am forever your servant," Hazel told him. "I am grateful for your kindness. Frith bless you."

He said nothing back. He had already disappeared in the midst of his rabbits, issuing orders and preparing them for the journey ahead.


	15. 

** 15**

"So they're supposed to be in this forest?" Seed asked, unsure of what lay in front of him. He and the two does were days behind the others. He didn't want to get lost further.

Useth sat beside him, grooming one side of her muzzle. Lang-it was eating behind them. "Well, it's a _forest_ isn't it?" she said. "And the stream leads right through here."

"But it's too…_dark_. That can't be natural, can it?" he asked, hopefully. He didn't want the prospect of crossing through this.

She sighed. "Do they even teach you anything at all?"

"Yes, of course they do. Forest is actually a clearing within a copse." Seed's eyes lowered. "But this copse is too dark…"

"You're too damn superstitious," was Useth's tired reply. She turned to Lang-it. "Ready?"

"Yes!" Lang-it cried, jumping. She made her way towards the other two. "Well, what are we waiting for?"

"For Seed to get some buck-blood in his nerves," Useth muttered beneath her clenched teeth.

"I resent that," Seed replied. Impatience marked his face.

She shook her head. "He has ears?"

"Unfortunately…"

"Why do you two pick on me a lot?" Seed asked.

"'Cause it's fun?" Lang-it pointed out, a look of innocence on her face.

"Because if we stay here any longer we'll get tracked by _elil_," Useth said sagely. Then, her face lightened. "Oh, and it's fun…"

***

Useth was eager to reach Forest. That meant she could rest from…kitten-sitting, as she called it…and then be back home, serving Oryctol and Appletree's Owsla once more while hoping to get some recognition. Such was the bane of an Owsla's life, or so she believed.

That was exactly the reason why her temper flared when one of Hazel's officers explained to her what had happened there two days ago. She went through all _ that_ trouble bringing in Seed and Lang-it just to be told that their quarry were long gone? She had instantly turned to the confused Seed and, with grit teeth and blazing eyes, said, "Well, that's what we get for your constant yammering and slow walking."

"I'm not an Owsla," Seed reasoned. "I can't do what you…"

"You ought not to be," Useth muttered, refusing to let him finish. She laid her ears back and made her way towards a burrow entrance.

Seed called up to her. "Hey, where are you going?"

She paused outside, glaring at him from within. "What does it look like to you? I'm going to see Hazel, get some rest, then be back in Inléthlay before it gets colder."

"But I thought you were going to help us reach the others," Lang-it broke in.

"I said I was going to help you reach Forest. By this end Oryctol's orders have been carried out. I am no longer responsible for what happens to you." She lifted one paw and was about to turn away when Seed's voice stopped her.

"But what are we supposed to do? Stay here?"

She flipped her ears back. "Maybe. Or you can try to find them. He said they're north of Quieflain, right? You do know what north is, right? Should be no trouble."

"I'm the future Chief of the warren…I…but I can't…I mean…" Seed stammered. Useth could see his eyes turning white as confusion reached him, sending waves of fear throughout his entire body. She could not stand it. Useth hadn't been raised in the warm society of Inléthlay as a heartless rabbit. Growling beneath her breath, she hopped back towards him.

"You do very well know that I'd be disobeying my Chief's orders if I help you out _ now_," she said firmly.

Seed did not reply. His eyes were downcast, unsure of what to do. Lang-it sat beside him, fidgeting and far too young to be involved in decisions.

"Oryctol-rah might make amends if I help _you_, Timothy's son, out," she continued, a look of dismay on her face. "But she's not _Captain_ of Owsla. Appletree hates disobedience, even like this. My career is as good as dead. Others will get promotion over me." She paused for breath, but did not wait for either to reply. "Look, Seed. You're Timothy's son. I'm aware that the other officers sent with me are still around here…I'll tell one to report to Appletree of my resignation from his Owsla."

"…what?" Seed's face lit up with surprise.

"Yes. This will keep my record clean, yet _still_ keep me in an Owsla," Useth said without stirring.

Seed's brows lifted. "What do you mean?"

"As I said, you're Timothy's son. That is, unless your brain doesn't realize it by now, you have great influence and power over many. You can convince Quillwort to take me into his Owsla. I don't care what position—as long as I get in."

"Is being in the Owsla _that_ important to you?" Lang-it piped up. Useth turned her attention to her. "I mean—a small dirtied record, what's that to the home you love and care for? If they kick you out because of this, _fine_! At least you're home…"

"You don't understand. I was born to be in the Owsla…" _Born to protect_. A thought flickered in her mind for a second, flashing blood, fur, and red-flecked snow on that day many, many seasons ago. She instantly shook this off and turned back to Seed. "Well?"

"I promise I'll try…"

"Frith, you better. Right. You two should eat, I'll go find that officer." Nodding, Useth set off.

"She's nice…" Lang-it said.

Seed shrugged. His opinions of Useth were too muddled to be properly spoken of.

"And she's strangely familiar," an officer behind them said. Seed and Lang-it turned to him. He had been listening to their talk.

"Have you ever heard of _privacy_?" Lang-it growled.

The officer grinned and hopped off, humming to himself.

***

"We're here! Finally, finally, finally!" Lang-it squealed. Seed passed her a look as she bounced around, acting more like a kitten than she usually does. She then collapsed beside him, and, noticing his gaze at her, began to nuzzle his muzzle fervently. "I'm so happy Seed!"

"Yes…" Seed replied, then turned to Useth. As far as he was concerned it was her skill that had brought them back with the group again. Though he was unused to saying it, he lowered his head and said, "Thanks."

Useth did not reply, and remembering the promise he had made Seed quickened his pace. He wasn't too eager to meet up with Timothy, knowing how easy the rabbit goes into fits, but he was knew there was no other choice…

Fur brushed against his neck and he looked up. He'd just bumped into another rabbit. Apologetically, he muttered, "S'ry…"

The rabbit was a doe, from her appearance and scent, and she lifted her head to gaze at him. The first thing he noticed was how lovely her eyes were. Then, his nose caught her scent. "I—ah, sorry too…" she said, shyly.

He nodded and began to walk off. Something suddenly hit him, and he turned back and called to her, "Hey, have we met before?"

She looked back, her brows furrowed. Seed waited until she approached him to sniff the side of his muzzle. "You're…aren't you Timothy's son?"

"Yes…"

"You've—you've been out walking?" She flicked her ears in curiosity. "Oh—sorry. Didn't mean to…it's your scent you see…all wet of woodland stuff…"

"Yes…"

"S'that all you're going to say?"

He laid his ears back. "You're—you're that doe that bumped against me when—during…d-during the attack—back in Primrose-rah."

She furrowed her brows for a few seconds, then said, "Ah…"

"I don't think you remember…" he muttered with disdain.

Her eyes were confused for a moment, and then she broke into a small giggle. "Oh—sorry…you're right though, I don't remember. See, I was far too scared then."

"Oh." Seed looked doubtfully at the ground. This was the first time in his life that he'd actually tried befriending someone, and he was not sure how to act. "Er…" he muttered, wishing he was far, far away, and hating himself—what was he thinking, trying to meet someone? "Erm…"

"My name is Haini, by the way," she said, breaking their moment of silence.

"Seed…" he replied.

"I know."

"Nearly everyone does…"

"Yes." She smiled.

Before he could say anything else Lang-it appeared. "Seed!" she called. "What are you waiting for? I want to see Timmie—I miss him so much!" She came to a halt beside them, and passed Haini a pleasant look. "Hello there." Then… "Come on Seed!" She nosed his shoulder.

"Where's that other one…uhm…" He was too confused to remember her name.

"Useth? She left. Said she's going to go feed."

"Oh." He lifted his head. "Well…let's go…uh…" Turning to Haini, he said, "Bye."

They walked off.

They were nearly in the middle of camp, and here Seed found the courage to look around. The field was small, and several piles of horse dung and hoof prints about the mud showed it was frequently used as a pasture. The grass was tall and grew thickly where they walked…but Seed could see, along the edges of the field where the grass ended and a road began, the grass was as thin as a fly's leg.

"You miss Timothy?" he asked, turning his attention away from their surroundings to the grey doe.

"Of course I do. Don't'cha?"

"Well…maybe." His ears drooped. He really didn't think he missed Timothy. Did he? What was there to miss? Timothy was to him as Quillwort was—someone he saw often yet seldom, if ever, talked to, or even just hung out with. The good memories he had of Timothy were covered with thick mist, and he could not conjure enough details to fully know of them…and the only thing he knew was that he could remember his father's strict, angry face once light up in a smile. "Y'think…y'think he feels the same?"

"Seed, how many times have you asked that?"

He muttered something beneath his breath.

Lang-it didn't hear, but she knew what he was thinking. She touched her nose against his cheek. "Don't worry Seed," she reassured. "I'm sure Timothy missed us, too."

***

He _had_ missed them. Missed the fact that they were lost, rather. It would be unfair to say that he had _forgotten_ them, but he did. For all the time he was sure, on the few moments he'd thought of them, that they were still with the group, safe and secure within the stronghold of the Owsla, and trusting on this belief he'd left the issue on its own. It was only when Seed's stricken face and Lang-it eager eyes appeared in front of him that he remembered he hadn't seen them for days…

He'd been in one of those rare moments were there was nothing to do but contemplate, think of Hop, seethe at Quillwort's actions in Forest, and daydream of being a kitten once more, where troubles were nil, and joy could be found where he had the mind to look. And then he was pondering about the warren rabbits again. Where would they go? Dewdrops had been a big help leading the rabbits to this momentary haven, but could his ability be enough to help in the long run? He'd always thought he was a skilled leader and tracker himself, but though he knew what they ought to do he did not know how they ought to do it.

And then he was afraid. Deathly afraid. A single wrong step in his part and his rabbits would go down, _he_ would go down, and all the dreams and hopes of his ancestors would diminish into thin air…

His thoughts suddenly seemed out of control, and in the far reaches of his aged mind came a long-forgotten memory…

_ "But it's dark and not safe and _outside_."_

_ There was a rabbit beside him, big and burly and smelled of safety and reassurance. It waved one paw in front of him then hopped outside. "See?" the rabbit said. "It doesn't hurt me, does it now?"_

_ "I'm afraid…"_

_ The rabbit gazed at him for a moment, then hobbled down the run and began to bully him outside. Squealing and choking, he gasped as he found his feet touching the soil. Before he had time to react the rabbit was beside him. "You see," the rabbit said. "There is only one way to not be afraid, and that's to face the very thing you fear…"_

_ In the moonlight he could see the rabbit's face, harsh and scarred, reddish even in the near-dark. Then he was not afraid anymore. "Yes…yes, I'm not afraid, I'm no longer afraid, Bran…"_

_ Bran?_

The parting of the grass revealed the two kittens, snapping his thoughts away from him. He crouched staring in shock at them, and it was Lang-it who spoke first. "Tim."

"Why haven't I seen you two?" he asked, shaking his head as he recovered. He approached Lang-it first and grazed his nose against the fur of her head. She smelled of woodland and air, and a few brambles were stuck to her coat—there was no doubt she'd been traipsing along recently. If she hadn't then she should smell like the field, where they had been staying in for nearly four days.

"S--I mean—w-w…we got lost…" Seed managed to blurt out.

Timothy's ears went up. "Lost?" he asked, his tone rising. "_When_? _ Where_?"

"B-back…" Seed started. Then, he seemed to lose his voice and looked imploringly towards Lang-it.

"When we first came to that stream," Lang-it answered for him. "That time…"

Timothy's lips wrinkled with irritation. "How the Inlé could you two get lost?" he said with clenched teeth.

"We were eating…" and then Lang-it seemed to see how his eyes were turned towards Seed, and sought to take the blame for herself. "It's…oh Timothy, it's my fault! I badgered him into finding better grass…Timothy, _look_ at me, it was my fault!"

But he did not seem to hear her. He drew a deep, ragged breath and spoke, even as Seed cowered beneath his incensed gaze. "You killed Hop." And at this Seed cowered further, wishing to disappear altogether at that very moment, that Frith might take mercy on him and have the ground swallow him up. "Now you almost killed _my_ sister?"

"Timothy it wasn't his…"

He wasn't listening. Rage borne of mingled love and hate had clouded his mind and he no longer knew what he was doing. "_Why_ does Frith even allow _you_ to live?" he roared. "Get the Inlé out of my sight before I kill you—you-you…Black Rabbit-cursed _hraka…keep your misfortunes to yourself…_"

***

Seed had fled the scene with his body shaking so hard he could barely control it, and found an empty burrow. There he curled inside, still trembling, as he gathered enough wits to remember Timothy's exact words…

He wouldn't be this scared. Nay, he wouldn't have even believed it. Would have thought they were just words out of nowhere, made out of rebuke, out of anger…but…

_ "Everything that you love…"_

Frith, that dream…

The idea was not unknown, though it remained a silent knowledge. There were plenty of stories of similar nature, but few storytellers ever had the mind to tell them…he'd heard one once, though, through an old doe whose name he couldn't remember, about a buck who ventured into a copse he wasn't supposed to and came back bearing a story about a shadow that took over his body and spoke to him about his slow disintegration. No one believed him, and in time even _he_ refused to believe, saying to himself that he just hadn't eaten that morning, until a man came and dropped a dead rabbit into one of the warren holes, and everyone died of the white blindness. The kittens listening to the story had shaken in fear and fled, with the old doe calling, "L'sn te' ye'r marlil or'll the _thirf-nrozil_ shall get ye!"

When all but he of the kittens were left, he'd looked at the old doe and into her blind eyes, and asked whether the story was true or not. The doe laughed for a while, then said in a gentle voice, "S'Frith real, lad? Unless ye' can prove'n somethin's wrong, then there be no reas'n it can't be right."

And he didn't know, through the mindless shaking of his body, how he could prove it wrong…

"Seed?"

It sounded strangely like Timothy and his instincts flared, making him push back against the wall and kick the ground beneath him until dust rose. "Easy…" the rabbit called. "It's me—Primrose…"

"Prim—Primrose?" he choked.

The rabbit entered. He could hear him gently sniffing the air. "Lang-it told me all."

"The Black Rabbit cursed me?" he asked.

"I don't know," Primrose admitted.

He sniffed the air then dropped his head with resignation. "N-nothing at all…?" he asked.

He felt Primrose sit down. "There was…there was a rumour," the rabbit said in a low voice. "Just a rumour, I heard it from one of the elders last summer, and he—I think his name was Clary. He—he said Burnet, Burnet once mentioned something…" He was hesitant—to speak of the nature of their subject was believed to incur the wrath of the darkness. "Ghost—he said—Ghost said some things, the day you were born, he was possessed, and they said you were cursed…"

His eyes were wide.

"I don't believe this," Primrose quickly added. "I mean—it's not logical…"

"Then…then how come Timothy knew?" he asked.

Primrose did not reply. Illogical as it might seem rabbits of Primrose-rah, borne from religious warrens, were by nature superstitious. There was no doubt either rabbit believed it through and through…

Seed muttered, "Primrose—P-Primrose, what was they—did he, I mean that old rabbit—did he say anything what the curse was about?"

"S-something about darkness…" Primrose replied, unwilling to scare the rabbit further, yet more unwilling to deny him the truth. "And…" The rabbit paused, in deep thought. "I think I remember most of it. It went something like 'Darkness will seethe through your soul, and your life will be void and meaningless, and everything you love you will lose…'"

"No…"

"I don't believe it, Seed…" Primrose said.

"No…"

"Seed…?"

He collapsed down. His mind was reeling…he was falling, falling, heart heavy, flashes of reality and dreams in his mind…falling, falling…

"Mother…" he said. "I-I killed her…"

"No. It's not true."

"Oh really? How come Timothy knew?" he asked. "H-how come I dreamt about it?" Primrose did not reply…but Seed didn't care. "H-h-how come…how come it's coming true…?"

"It can't be…"

"D-d-darkness, did he say?" Seed asked, aloud. He began to shiver again, staring into the empty dimness of the burrow. "H…I killed…it was my fault…that curse…my curse…my mother…my mother ought to be alive…"

He felt Primrose's hard paw cuff his shoulder. "It wasn't your fault Seed!" But he barely heard. "It never was anyone's fault…!"

"Ghost—Ghost…I killed him too…"

"Seed!"

"Timothy—Timothy was right…Juniper…Willow-rah…the warren…" Seed's eyes were wide with horror. "I almost—almost dragged Lang-it into this…you…everything I love, Primrose…everything…"

"Seed…"

"Frith-rah…"

"Snap out of it, Seed!"

"So this is how I'm doomed…?"

There he lost it.


	16. 

** 16**

The rabbits stayed in the field for three more days—Bugle, as he had said, came and visited for the last two. Then, despite the pleas of "one more week" that set off among the majority, they continued again. They needed a more permanent home.

This time there was no set course, and no one besides Dewdrops knew the terrain—and only the one within a few miles off Quieflain. By the time they had reached two weeks' worth of travel, northeast from their last stop, no one knew exactly where they were going, and any ideas that the leaders might have had were kept solely to themselves.

"Hills," Timothy had said one mid-afternoon, during one of their stopovers. "What we need are hills. Living in Primrose-rah has taught me what an indispensable tool a hill can be. You can see the terrain for miles at length, and you'll always be alert to what's going on."

"We'll be lucky if we can find a proper _field_ we can live on," Quillwort remarked with doubt.

Timothy passed him a look, and he knew he had better keep his mouth shut from now on. His comments were not just appreciated anymore, but though he knew he had done wrong in Forest he would not have it any other way. Instead he withdrew and set about to listening to the others.

"East…" Elderberry said.

"East?" Timothy asked. He shuffled his hefty weight, a slight feeling of nostalgia overcoming him at the single word. He couldn't remember why he felt that way.

"The crow. When he was alive. I once asked him what was beyond the warren. He told me a few things. Basically most of which you know." Elderberry paused, licking his lips. "East. I remember now. East, far, very far east, the downs lie. Downs, Timothy-rah. Plenty of high hills."

"Such a place would already be occupied," Timothy muttered.

Elderberry shrugged. "Just a suggestion…"

"High place. Few men come, plenty of decent food," Cotton said.

"If we find a large enough warren," Bracken broke in. "I mean—the downs Elderberry was suggesting…"

"What do you mean?" he asked, lifting his brows.

"Would we merge with it? If it isn't too large…"

"Too risky," Timothy said. Then he shook his head fiercely. "No, no merging. I won't have it."

"Ah," Carrot replied.

Timothy passed him a glance, then turned to the burrow entrance. Dewdrops stood there, ears flicking. "You're back," he said. The lanky buck nodded his reply. "What did you find?"

"A warren, sir." Dewdrops smiled. "I've made arrangements for their Chief to see you. By the rowan tree at ni-Frith."

"A warren…?" Timothy's brows furrowed. "I don't think this is a good idea. Bloody Inlé—I wouldn't hesitate if it were one of our allies—but any other warren…"

"They seem jolly well friendly enough," Dewdrops intervened.

"Besides, Timothy, we can use the burrows and food, and the rabbits would appreciate the company," Cotton broke in.

Timothy curled his lip. "Well, since Dewdrops had already arranged it I might as well see this Chief." He yawned. "Next time though," he added, giving Dewdrops a sharp look. "Before you do anything of this sort tell me aforehand. Ni-Frith, eh?"

"Y-yes, sir…"

"Good. Give me time for rest." He blinked and without another word was fast asleep, one paw over his muzzle.

Shrugging, most of them followed suit. Only Quillwort and Elderberry remained awake, blinking in the dark and burying themselves deep within the midst of their churning thoughts.

***

Timothy sat below the rowan, surveying the area with cautious eyes. He had never travelled this way before, and knew nothing of the habits and customs of the rabbits here. For the fifteenth time he cursed Dewdrops below his breath. "Annoying little _hraka_. Making decisions without my approval. No wonder Bugle wanted to get rid of _him_."

He looked around again. Quillwort, without asking him, had taken extra precaution and situated plenty of the Owsla about. The rest of the rabbits were in camp.

"They're here," he heard Dewdrops call.

He stood, squinting at the horizon. Several dark figures appeared, hopping in steady paces towards them. Swallowing, Timothy walked a few steps and waited. In no time he could see them clearly—the rabbit he presumed as Chief was on the lead, ears swaying with the wind, face masked in a firm expression. The rabbit was hefty, like most Chiefs were—almost as large as he was…and a buck, and he did not hesitate to stand in front of him and greet him with a nod instead of a nose-touch.

"I presume you are the Chief," Timothy said as his greeting. Rabbits may be informal, but a rude Chief was likely to have rude followers too, and he had no patience for rabbits such as these.

"Aye." The rabbit gazed him up and down, and he, always a proud and dominant one even among all the other _Rahil_, found this as an insult. This and the fact that the rabbit held a gaze higher than his. He growled under his breath and lifted his head in order for their eyesight to be level.

"I am Timothy-rah. My warren was destroyed. My rabbits and I are searching for a new warren, and…" He flicked his ears back for a moment. "And we wish to stay in yours for a bit." It was a bold comment. He wouldn't be surprised if he was refused.

"F'er what reas'n?" the rabbit asked.

He had been prepared for this. "No proper reason, sir." He hated saying the last word, but knew it was necessary if he was to make a good impression. "But that a couple of days would be healthy for both our warrens, cultural exchange, as you may, and I and my Owsla would readily assist you if you need help, so as long as we can provide it."

"Ye think I be daft?" the Chief asked.

He lifted his brows, not replying.

"Nae, lad, I dinnae be daft." He felt his breathing rise at the hostility in the other's voice. "Ye think I'll want harm tae' m'warren by bringin' ye tae it? Aye, t'will be proper n' good, healthy, so ye' say, but what is that tae the risk? Nae, lad, nae."

"Two days…" Timothy growled. "What risk would two days bring? My rabbits our tired…"

"An' I dinnae be carin', lad. Or ye be blind?"

"My rabbits have no disease," he said firmly, temper flaring. "And certainly I don't plan to overtake yours with them."

"Nae, lad, dinnae be that I'm worried of." The rabbit's voice was subdued. Timothy found his calmness to be unnerving. "Or ye' think m'warren is weak? But lad, nae Chief is daft 'nuff tae do what y'er askin'. Ye would do the same, I presume."

He was taken aback. Would he? He wasn't heartless, but…

He saw the wisdom in the rabbit's words. Grimly, he nodded. "I see. Well—while we stay in your area then I ask for no hostility from your rabbits. We will not venture into your territory, and we ask you not to venture into ours, temporary as it may be." He flicked his ears.

"Expect me tae be civil," the rabbit said. Before Timothy had a chance to reply the rabbit had turned and left.

***

"Ye think it be proper tae do what ye did?"

Hemlock flicked his ears and turned to the smaller rabbit that stood beside him. "What ye mean?" he asked.

The rabbit shuffled paws, then sat and raised one towards him. "Our clan is small. Ye dinnae hae seen their numbers, hae ye? T'is triple ours."

"An' only a third as strong," Hemlock said. He snorted—it seemed silly that Centaury would doubt their strength like this. The thought made him laugh for but a moment—then, he smiled and stroked the other rabbit's whiskers with one paw. "Dinnae' worry, brother. T'is nae unknown tae me that they hae larger forces than ours. They nae be strong 'nuff tae defeat us…"

"But what ye did, t'is a proper way tae wage war," Centaury muttered. Doubt soiled his words.

He shook his head and rose to walk on. "Then, let them," he said.

Centaury gave a gasp of shock. "Hemlock! Methinks t'is madness…"

"T'is proper, I should say," Hemlock reasoned.

"Madness…"

"We can handle them."

"Madness…"

"T'is good practice f'er the others…"

"Madness!"

"S'at all ye will do, lad? Mutter that word?" Hemlock paused. The air's scent was different now, heavier, and he knew he had come to the border of his warren at last. It was a small, bare area—one so unlikely to contain as much rabbits as he claimed, and seemed less so. The grass was not thick, nor palatable…the ground was peppered with trees, that to burrow below them would mean to go around thick roots that grew close together. Besides that only two or three holes were seen, and never to strangers…they were cleverly concealed beneath foliage.

"This lad," he said, indicating the area as he turned to Centaury and gazed into the rabbit's eyes. "This be a place only a rat can live on. Yet our people? They do, lad, nae, they _thrive_. But _them_? They dinnae chose a place like this…nae, they go f'er the place closest tae a meadow. An' kittens…the scouts say they hae few kittens, dinnae they? An' we hae a lot. A. Lot."

He had made his point, and by the look of Centaury's face knew he had driven it through. He smiled. "Go tae y'er business be, brother. I go tae do mine."

When Centaury had left him he ventured towards one of the concealed holes. The sentry, knowing who he was, let him pass, and he entered the system of his warren.

The runs were cleverly made, most simply passing around the roots. In other parts the roots themselves had been cut through, which was a difficult task. Hemlock smiled as he remembered his conversation with Centaury. Certainly, it _would_ be madness if the passing warren made war against them, but for _their_ sake, not his. It would take more than their forces to win against Nizorn.

He made a stop to one burrow, slick with doe and kitten scent, and peered inside. "Good day tae ye, Bthas," he said, passing a nod at the doe he knew lay at the other end.

"Tae ye too, big lad," the doe replied.

He smiled and turned to look at the four kittens that stumbled about the edges of the burrow-entrance. They were barely discernable in the dark, but they were his, that much he knew, and was glad to see them growing well. He did not count, but this one was his fifth litter. Hemlock was only a year old, and his first mating had been during the high summer—like most bucks of his status he did not limit himself to a single doe, and consequently, five litters were born near and around the same time this autumn.

"Would ye like tae stay f'er a while?" Bthas asked.

He shook his head, smiling. "Too much tae do, lass. Listen, hae ye' seen Heather?"

"Aye. He passed by earlier an' he said that if until ye' be back he'd be sleepin' in Thnieve's burrow."

"Thank ye." He turned to go, then remembered something and poked his head back in. "How old be these kits?"

"Half an Inlé."

"Remember t'is proper tae bring them tae Summer f'er training in another week."

The doe chuckled. "Methinks this dinnae be mae first litter, Hemlock. I know what it's like tae raise them."

"Aye, but t'is one of mine," he said with a rueful smile. He flicked his ears back and went down the run.

It wasn't difficult to find Thnieve's burrow…he knew every rabbit in his warren by name. Just as Bthas said he found Heather inside, curled up in a tight ball beside Thnieve. Six kittens the same age as his milled about his unmoving feet.

He entered, giving Thnieve a grin, and, placing the kittens aside, sat beside Heather. He coughed for a moment, and when all Heather did was flick his ears, he cried, "Ten-hut!"

Heather jumped up and hit the ceiling.

He laughed aloud as the rabbit realized it was just him, and gave him a narrow-eyed look. "Methinks I should get used tae this by now," Heather muttered.

Heather was his brother, littermate, unlike Centaury who was a year older than both of them. They were alike in many ways, but Heather did not have his heft. "Tae Inlé with ye," he muttered good-naturedly.

"What t'is their Chief be wantin'?"

"Stay in our warren f'er a while." Then, he laughed again. "T'is idiocy, lad. They be havin' the field—dinnae be possible they be wanting more, would they?"

"Maybe they want _less_," Heather replied.

He grinned, crouching beside him. "_We_ would, dinnae be possible _they_ would. Nae, of course I disagreed. Centaury was fearing they be thinkin' of attackin' us."

"Idiocy," Heather agreed.

"Indeed. But that dinnae be what I want tae talk with ye about. Ye do know that?"

"Ah," Heather said. "Aye, of course I do. T'is about the thing I mentioned tae ye."

Hemlock passed a look towards Thnieve, but he did not really care about her presence. His warren was too open to have private discussions…he would often have leader-meetings in a burrow where only half of the rabbits would do the listening and less still of the participating. "A journey, then," he said. "Ye' think it be time?"

"Methinks so," his brother said. "Once ye'r patrols return we will know Primrose-rah's situation an' we will defeat it with the army I'll be raisin'."

"What be the direction ye will takin'?"

"Ye mean ye allow me?" Heather's eyes twinkled in the dark, or so he thought.

He smiled. "How else will we raise an army? T'is good, y'er idea. Tae conquer a warren an' use the product of its does and our best bucks." He paused then, considering what he had just said. "Din' think ye'll agree tae this lad, but what about takin' over that passin' warren?"

"Bonnie good luck ye'll be havin'," Heather mumbled. "Nae, I be knowin' the warren I'll take. I hae stayed in it durin' that patrol I did quarter of an Inlé ago. This warren nearby, from the scouts' reports, dinnae be as good as that'n."

"T'is ye'r mission, not mine," Hemlock replied with a grin. "But what of this warren, lad?"

"Small—easy to overtake. Does in the Owsla, brother…tae Inlé with this passin' warren! The scouts say their Owsla Does dinnae be plentiful. An' the does are most important, dinnae they be?"

"Aye."

"I know what I hae seen and t'is good." Heather nodded. "So the mission dinnae be failin', nae, it dinnae be."

"I trust ye lad. Tomorrow then, ye shall be leavin'?" Hemlock wasn't asking a question—he was implying, and he knew Heather knew this. The rabbit smiled once more.

"Tomorrow."

"Ah, I be rid of ye then for a while," he said with a mock-sigh of relief.

Heather laughed. "Ye be right, but then, I'll be taking ye'r best bucks with me. An' ye'r only companion will be Centaury."

"Better Centaury than a headache like ye," he said, and both brothers laughed.

But in this peace war was brimming in their minds and in their blood.


	17. 

** 17**

Hemlock.

Nizorn.

Just as he had said, Heather left by early morning the next day, with him a quarter of their rabbits. In the darkness of dawn he had bid his brother good-bye, wishing him luck and Frith's blessing, and had watched him and the rabbits disappear, knowing he would see them again within a few seasons. By then, as Heather had proposed, he would have an army of the strongest, most powerful rabbits he could conjure.

He had retired to his own burrow with a smile on his face.

Hemlock.

He idly stretched one paw, staring at it in the dark. He was Hemlock, and he was proud of his warren. In numerical terms, it was sixty all in all—too small to his liking, but small enough to conjure the fact that it _was_ indeed stronger than two warrens combined. Their kittens had a high mortality rate, owing to the harsh environment they were born in, and this kept their numbers down, but for the almost-two seasons of his ruling life he had never lost a single adult rabbit. His entire warren was Owsla…scouts, patrollers, sentries…agile, alert, quick to respond, and strong fighters.

He _knew_ this. This was Nizorn, after all. Nizorn—a warren that no one but they knew by name. It was a _hlessi _warren—a wandering warren, having no permanent home. Travelling was part of their life, and it was only during the first months of fall that they actually stop for a long period of time, owing to kitten-season. This in itself was testament to their abilities.

If Heather succeeds in overtaking the warren he'd been talking about, kill all their bucks and sire litters on all the does, and train all the kittens through the winter and spring months, the army he'd produce would be enough to proclaim victory over his foes.

"Hemlock?"

"Aye," he replied, breaking from his thoughts. "Enter ye be."

"The patrols hae arrived."

He remembered which patrols, and smiled at this. "Aye, very good lass. Fleabane be outside, I presume?"

"Aye Hemlock."

He stepped out of the burrow, and was about to go when the messenger stopped him. "Hem—Hemlock…"

"What be it, lass?" he asked, turning his head.

"If…once Heather returns, we dinnae be in peace no more?" Her question was clear, and for a moment his heart echoed it. They wouldn't be in peace anymore, once Heather arrives.

"Aye, lass," he replied.

She did not reply, but she did not need to. He knew what was in her mind. "Lass," he said, touching her nose. "Dinnae be ye'r fault. Aye, me too, I din' want tae send our rabbits tae war, youngsters an' adults…t'is too dangerous. This warren we be facing is big, lass."

"I know."

"Ah, but ye see, we have tae go through it. T'is our destiny, t'is why we are here." He nodded. "T'is _mae_ destiny…lass, t'is their fault we be here in the first place, scourin' these lands f'er a place tae call _home_, failing all the same. Lass, our litters are born tae a world that'll strike all but the lucky down, tae a world hostile tae their advances…"

"T'is a world _we_ were born tae. I want nae other. I _need_ nae other."

"An' we shall wander aimlessly fe'r all our lives." He was not angry, nor even a trifle annoyed. He understood her…he would feel the same was he in her place…

_ But he was not_.

Perhaps to them, raising an army and going to a war to a warren they barely know except through stories was unnecessary. But he knew, wanted, no other way. It was for them in the long run. That they had to understand.

"I be sorry Hemlock."

He nodded. "Dinnae be ye'r fault, I say. But I make decisions here an' ye know that."

"Aye."

He allowed her to lick his jaw, then turned down the runs to meet up with Fleabane.

All his excitement subsided as Fleabane came into sight. The rabbit's face was downcast…whatever he brought would not be good news. He halted in front of him, forgetting to touch noses, and asked, "What be it?"

"Hemlock. Primrose-rah's been destroyed."

He waited a moment, not sure whether he really heard what he'd heard. "Ye be sure?" he asked, doubt filtering his eyes. "Ye be _sure_?"

"Aye."

"Tell me _everythin'_." He felt Centaury appear and sit beside him, but he ignored him. "_Everythin'_."

Fleabane flicked his ears backwards. "Aye, Hemlock. T'is as happened…we been tae Primrose-rah soon after ye sent us. As ye ordered all we did was survey the area, an' this we did f'er three days. Then Acorn said that he din' remembered seein' a single rabbit, an' it seemed naebody has discovered us yet. We decided tae climb the hill. Nae single rabbit, Hemlock. We went down the hill. Hemlock—t'is full of rabbits, there, there an' inside the burrows." He licked his lips. "But nae _livin' _rabbits, Hemlock. Dead…skeletons, some still rottin', all them be."

"Nae livin' rabbits?" Hemlock asked, his whiskers curling.

"Nae. Lots of them dead, nae single 'un livin'."

"They die of _what_?" Hemlock asked. "White Blindness?"

"Nae. I din' be sure, they hae been dead too long tae tell, but t'is not White Blindness from the scent. We checked the area out, an' methinks t'is from a man. He passed by an' he had dogs with him…lots of dogs. We dinnae be wantin' tae go back there…t'is too dangerous."

"Do we send f'er Heather?" Centaury broke in.

"Nae," Hemlock said, but he barely knew what he was saying. He had risen and stumbled back down the hole. If Primrose-rah was destroyed, then there would be no war…

He didn't want war…

But faced with the prospect of not going through it, his heart began to throb with disappointment…

He found himself in Bthas' burrow. Found himself nuzzling the side of her face. Found himself forgetting his problems as he whispered in her ear, "Frith, lass, I need ye…"

***

He woke up by Ni-Frith, curled up in his burrow with Bthas snuggled against him. His ears were laid back as he touched her face with his nose and said, when she'd lifted her head, "Ye should be getting' back tae the kittens."

"They're old 'nuff tae survive proper without mae presence, methinks," she said, smiling. "But since ye insist, I shall go." She rose and kissed his left ear.

He was quiet until she'd left the burrow, then a thought entered his mind. "Lass, ye think t'is possible some rabbits survived Primrose-rah?"

Bthas' face appeared back inside. "Aye. T'is possible for rabbits tae survive any ordeal, methinks. Why's this so?"

He answered with a question. "How…how s'it possible for many warrens tae be destroyed at a time?"

"T'is not, methinks."

He licked his lips. A realization was forming in his head…

"Southwest, t'is where the scouts saw the new rabbits comin' from…" He lifted his head. "Bthas! Get ready—we're going intae war!"


	18. 

** 18**

Timothy's fitful sleep was rudely awakened by Cotton's incessant voice. Growling, he sniffed the air, then opened one eye to stare at the rabbit's dark shadow. "Well, go on, I don't have all day," he grumbled.

"It's the other warren…" Cotton replied.

He would have regarded it as unimportant, but Cotton's scent was fearful, and this made his fur rise in alarm. "What with them?" he asked, though he had an idea of what was going on.

"I think their Chief's brought his Owsla. And it doesn't look like a presentation of truce to me…"

***

"Halt! Not another step closer!" Timothy's voice rang out through the fading light of dusk, loud, clear, and meaningful. He took a deep breath and narrowed his eyelids. The head of the oncoming army had made his rabbits stop as he went forward on his own.

The rabbit stopped, his face in full view in the greyness of the atmosphere. Timothy licked his lips. Everything about this rabbit spoke of confidence. And though it shouldn't, it troubled him…his own Owsla was flanking him, and even _he_ knew that there were more of his rabbits than the other's.

"What is it you want?" he asked.

"I declare war on y'er warren," the rabbit replied simply. There was no hesitation at all in his tone.

"It's not our will to fight," he answered. He flicked his ears back, and rose to full height. "We will, if you push us to it, but do you see my rabbits? This is Primrose-rah's elite Owsla…"

"Primrose-rah, aye? Then I be right." The rabbit stood, as he had. "Ye brag now, but yer path speaks only of death, mae boyo."

"We have done nothing to you, or your warren," Timothy spoke. He gritted his teeth. Fear…fear was running down his spine. But why would he be afraid? He was almost relieved to see Quillwort run down to him and sit by his side, silent, and for a moment, Timothy felt a little safer.

But still…

It wasn't like him to be afraid of an enemy he barely knew…

"Aye, t'is where ye be wrong," the rabbit spoke. "Ah, that ye would forget ye'r past? Timothy-rah of Primrose-rah, dinnae t'is? T'was ye'r father who waged war 'gainst the warren of Quieflain."

He was dumbstruck.

"How did you know…?"

Then, he remembered the vision he had when they were at the borders of Forest, many a day ago, and terror struck him. _Oh Frith, it can't be… _He swallowed hard, trying to mask his fear, but it was useless. That war had scarred him. At the mere mention of it, the nerves of steel he had gained throughout the years seemed no softer than grass itself.

The rabbit laughed. "Ye wonder why? I be a product of that war. We all be." At this his rabbits began to advance. Timothy stiffened.

Behind him, Quillwort began to cry orders, and his own Owsla moved to protect him. But he did not notice them. His eyes were on the rabbit that stood, unmoving in front of him, ears relaxed, eyes aflare. "You…" he said.

"Aye. Ye'r father dinnae knew nothing of war…he let mine escape. Betony be mae father, Timothy. Mae mother be Gwyhn, daughter tae Cherry-rah of Quieflain. I be Hemlock-rah of Nizorn, an' I be here tae finish what our fathers hae begun!"

His rabbits attacked.

Where Timothy had been so sure his Owsla could take the other's easily now the doubts that had begun to appear in his heart were confirmed. It was seeing the battle in Forest all over again, but now, _now_, he was on the losing side…

_ Frith_, he was on the losing side…

His rabbits were torn asunder with little effort…hrair against a single Nizorn rabbit, and still unable to touch it. Shock coursed through his body…blood from rabbits bravely throwing themselves in his defence splattered over his face. What the Inlé was happening?

It was not long before he regained his senses and drove himself towards a Nizorner, swearing and cursing for Inlé to come. Timothy attacked ruthlessly. His size and strength were superior even to the well-trained Nizorn rabbits. Rearing up on his hind legs, he used this to his full advantage as he crashed into his opponent and rendered it helpless and squirming beneath his weight.

He killed it. And turned to meet the next rushing rabbit, heart pounding and teeth bared, screaming, "Die you bloody bastard!" Fury had masked all his fear, and he did not bother to flinch as the rabbit—now rabbits—swiped their claws across him, ignoring the injuries that would have knocked any other rabbit down, foaming at the mouth as _he_ swiped at them and killed them with one blow. There was no mercy in his actions.

By Frith's will he soon found himself fighting side by side with Quillwort, and it was here his rage diminished, and he found himself thinking properly, now analyzing his opponent's moves to match his own and acutely aware of the wounds that marked his entire body and bathed his fur red. His opponent threw itself at him, and he sent it crashing down with one blow from his heavy paw.

It lay unconscious in the dust. He did not bother to kill it, instead turning to Quillwort, who sat licking his wounds beside a dead rabbit. "We're losing," he said plainly.

Quillwort lifted his head to look at him, then turned towards the distance, where the rest of the fighting went on. "Yes," the rabbit replied. There was a brief pause—him, thinking it through, Quillwort, waiting for him to finish. Finally, the rabbit could no longer hold back the thoughts in his head, and said, "I don't know if you have any ideas, but what do we do now?"

"I don't know," he replied, truthfully. He had always shown his weakness best to the second-in-command, simply because the other had almost the same responsibilities as he had—and all resentment he had of Quillwort from the Forest incident had diminished now that he looked up to him more than ever. He lowered his head and rubbed one paw across an ear. "I don't…know…" he repeated.

Quillwort remained silent.

Suddenly there was a roar, and he saw a number of Nizorners heading towards him. Shock coursed through his body…one of the bloody rabbits was hard enough to kill. How was he to face this now?

"Run," he said, turning to Quillwort.

"What?" the rabbit asked, looking up at him.

"I said, run. Take the Owsla back with you, back to the others." He stood and shook his coat free of dust. "I'll run the other way. They'll go after me."

"What makes you so sure…?"

His whiskers curled. "See that lot? I'm their foremost target. They can't afford to let me escape, and if I try to it's possible he'll send everyone after me. That'll give you some time to take the others and leave."

"But…"

"Bugger off, chum." He lifted his ears. "Go on now—I think I can handle this."

"You _think_?"

"I've been in this kind of situation before, no? _Hrair_ times."

"But…"

"There's not much time…"

"Timothy. You'll die."

He furrowed his brows and looked at Quillwort. "You think I don't know that?"

Speechless, the prickly-furred rabbit drew back.

"Lead the rabbits to safety." He licked his lips and tapped Quillwort on the shoulder with a paw. "Cover your tracks, have Dewdrops choose the best route. Go on. If I survive I'll be back."

Quillwort narrowed his eyes. "_You won't_."

"Then tell Lang-it and Seed I love them."

Though hesitant and shaking, Quillwort obediently turned back and ran.

Timothy braced himself, meeting the oncoming rabbits with renewed vigilance. Snarling and frothing, he threw themselves at them, kicking and scratching and biting, yelling, "Take _that_! Serves you right! Oh, boo hoo, that hurts a lot now doesn't it? There, go back to your _marli_ and tell her you just met the mortal incarnation of the black rabbit!"

From the corner of his eyes he saw, in the distance, his rabbits retreating from the battlefield. It was his signal. He threw off a rabbit from him and ran the opposite direction.

And it was then that the full impact of what he was to do hit him—too late to turn back, all he could do now was raise his head to the sky and cry for Frith's guidance. 

***

Timothy was right on when he said he was the most important target. Hemlock, although aware of his intentions, had his whole warren pursue him lest he manages to escape, knowing he could well easily track the rest of Primrose-rah as soon as it was over.

Timothy knew this. So he ran.

He had gained a good head-start from the beginning, but even then he was aware of the fact that they were gaining on him. So he ran, faster, stout, muscular paws loping across the terrain, claws digging into the rough soil. It was dark—too dark to see, and he was too tired to scent—but he ran without thought, ran even with eyes closed, until the exhaustion had come to him to the point that he could barely think, the one thing in his mind the mere fact that if he _ran_, and kept on running, then his rabbits would have more time to escape…

_ …his_ rabbits.

Frith, how he loved them.

_ If I die doing this_, he thought. _If…Frith…I won't regret…for them…_

So he held on, panting, wheezing, cursing beneath his heaving breath. But he knew he could not run forever. Soon, an inkling in his brain told him it was time, and as quick as he had started he stopped, skidded to a halt and turned to face his pursuers with bloodshot eyes.

"T'is the end, Timothy," Hemlock's voice came from the murky…blurry, darkness. "Mae fathers would be glad. T'is time _they_ win."

Timothy closed his eyes, his thoughts coming to him in short bursts. When he could finally conjure up something to say, it came simply. "…why?"

"Why? Why I be running after ye an' ye'r warren?" Hemlock laughed, an ironic laugh, tinged with displeasure and loathe. "I hae told ye—the war. That war. T'is not proper tae end it the way it seemed tae hae a'fore. If Quieflain—Nizorn tae me…is tae win, then ye an' ye'r blood should be dead, an' ye'r warren, mine…"

"You want revenge."

"Put it simply. Aye."

"You want my warren…"

"More'n that. I wanted ye'r land." Hemlock paused, reconsidering his thoughts. "But t'is gone now. Methinks I'll be goin' fe'r another instead…t'is far in the future. Aye. Well, Timothy, 'nuff chatter. Ye do believe in Frith, dinnae ye? T'is best, since ye will require prayers fe'r what be comin' next."

"You want war?" Timothy hissed. He bared his teeth and blindly turned to Hemlock's direction. "You'll get war. My warren doesn't end with me, Hemlock! You may think you have them once I'm gone but you're wrong—you're wrong…"

Hemlock ignored the threats. "Ye die now."

"Not yet!"

He opened his eyes, though he saw nothing. But that did not matter. He threw himself at the rabbits and exploded with fury. Nothing mattered now—nothing. He didn't care how many blows landed on him, he didn't care that the pain made his eyes water—he didn't even care when someone slashed past him and ripped one ear off in half. No—he fought, bravely, foolishly, sinking his teeth into the nearest flesh and tearing, ripping, ignoring the anguished cries that came from his victim's throats, fought for the unfailing hope that his rabbits would survive, fought for the memories of those that died, fought for the love that fuelled his spirit even as his strength waned away…

He did not know how long he battled. But that did not matter. When the sky's dark blue began to turn violet from dawn, Hemlock and the remains of his group withdrew, watching their deaths with amazement. Timothy had all but taken many down. Their battered bodies lay sprawled across the ground, mangled, unmoving.

"He be as good as dead. Leave him be an' let him suffer," Hemlock said, bleeding, expecting Timothy to rise from where he lay, covered in blood and almost torn in pieces, and extinguish them where they stood. All the confidence had gone out of him. How could it not? In the short time Timothy had fought, half-dead as he already was, he had killed at least a third of his fighters. Respect-tinged fear was flowing through his veins. _Timothy. Ye'r a nightmare come true._ His rabbits were no different, and realizing the weakness their Chief was showing now, they followed him in retreat. 

Minutes—hours…had gone by, when Timothy opened his eyes and stumbled away from the bodies and fell, some distance away. Here, he lay, thinking, of thoughts that limited themselves to the simple ones that meant everything to him—Hop's delicate, sullen smile, Willow's gentle caress, that twinkle in Ghost's blue eyes, Lang-it's joyful dances, the innocent laughter Seed used to have...thoughts—memories—of a life gone by so fast flashed in his mind, and he remembered Bran, and the way the rabbit's strong paws held him as he spoke of pointless yet meaningful things, like the stars, and how they shone even in the darkness of the night, because they were Frith's guardians, and how he knew Bran himself didn't believe it but told him anyway so at least _he_ wouldn't grow up to be cynical and lonely. _Bran_. He lost Bran in the war, his father Bran…

_ Seed. I am afraid for you…_

_ What the hell will become of you…?_

"Ah, but I will be with him…"

He opened his eyes. Strange, but earlier, when he could barely see anything but shapes, now he could see the sky…the indigo-tinged sky, still peppered with stars.

_ "Because they said, even in darkness, Frith will never leave you…"_

_ "Never…"_

His breathing began to come in quick, ragged gasps. _Frith. Take care of Seed for me_. Nearer now…he could hear the thumping of his own heart. _Take care of the warren for me._ And then the worries were gone, the pain was gone, and the heat of his blood and the coldness of the air, leaving only joy from an expectation that had been in his heart for so long. _Hop_. His eyes flickered as he felt her presence closer than ever, near him, beside him, one with him, Frith's blinding light drowning all…

So Timothy-rah, son of Ghost, breathed his last.

When the Black Rabbit came he lay sprawled against the bare ground, a smile on his lips, his head turned to where Frith was just beginning to rise to His glory.


	19. 

** 19**

Quillwort's whiskers curled with grim determination.

Withdrawing from the Nizorn rabbits had been difficult enough—and it took him several tries to convey the idea of retreat into his blasted rabbits' heads. When he and the Owsla finally managed to escape, the enemy chased them for a while, and then drew back from Hemlock's orders.

He did not tell them until they were a distance away, when the sky had darkened and they were at the edge of desperation trying to find their way back to the rest of the warren. And then, while they caught their breaths beneath a tree, he had said it, plain and simple, as if simply announcing the weather. "We've lost Timothy-rah."

The rabbits stared at him in the moonlight, unsure they had heard what they did. Giving a quick snort through his nostrils, he repeated it. "Timothy-rah is dead, or will be dead soon."

One rabbit, in the midst of the confusion and hushed whispers, had the courage to ask, "Why?"

"You fools," Quillwort hissed below his breath, his patience running out for but a bleak moment. "Don't you see? He had you retreat while he went off to have the enemy chase his tail. Why do you think they haven't caught up with us yet?"

Still, they did not seem to get it…

He rose. Cuffed the ground with one paw. He was angry at them—no…he wasn't, he was angry at Nizorn and Hemlock…no, he was angry at Timothy—why the bloody Inlé did it matter who he was angry at? He was mad—he tore at the nearest thing he saw, an overhanging branch, and kicked at it desperately with a foaming mouth, thrashed in the darkness as he exploded into fury, as if it could help Timothy, as if the every ounce of strength he wasted upon nothing could have beat the enemy away from his Chief.

_ His Chief_.

Oh Frith, his Chief…

His strength gave way, and he lay against the wet soil, panting, teeth bared, the scent of his outrage still in the air. The eyes of the entire Owsla were on him. He stared at them, then in a low voice, repeated what he'd first said. "We've lost Timothy-rah."

In the silence rose their anguish.

They tracked their way back to the warren and met the excited rabbits with subdued faces. Quillwort, bleak and melancholy in his stance, spoke the last words no one expected to hear and turned and left for a burrow while in the distance, the rabbits broke into a crying worse than when Ghost had died, for this time it was serious, _this_ time, their Chief left while they needed him, and this time, it seemed so soon, for Timothy had been Chief for less than a year. The future was shrouded in mists. The tremors that overtook their bodies at the realization that things would never be the same again could have quaked the entire land then and there.

***

"Ouch!"

Seed hadn't run far across the run when all of a sudden something warm and furry brushed against his forepaws. He drew back in shock, instincts flaring, and only the realization that it was just a kitten calmed him down. "Watch it," he snapped.

He saw the kitten in the dim light, blinking at him rapidly with large eyes. "Who're you ta' tell me 'at?" the kitten replied, indignantly.

Seed flicked his ears back. "The Chief's son," he said solemnly.

"Ya' sure?" the kitten asked. He felt tiny paws touch his own. "Mama says ya're too small…yes, you must be him…"

He jerked his paw away from the kitten. "What is it you want?"

The kitten didn't reply. Instead, he saw it dash to one corner and call out loudly, "Hey, Hickory, 'ere's a rabbit who says e's the Chief's son!"

Another kitten appeared, just as wide-eyed and blinking. He could barely tell it apart from the other, except for its voice, which was thinner and softer. "The Chief's son?" the kitten asked.

"Yes," he replied, getting tired of it. Wasn't he supposed to be doing something more productive?

A small nose touched his elbow. "Come. Follow me."

He furrowed his brows as the two kittens led him to another tunnel. They didn't walk too far—eventually they reached the entrance of a burrow. The moment Seed smelt the air he knew it wasn't right. He drew back, and pointed at the burrow with his nose. "What's in there…?" he demanded.

"Yvin? Hickory?" another kitten called in response to his voice. "Who's 'sere?"

"Go inside," Hickory said, pushing his foreleg. "Come on."

"I dun' think 'e can help," Yvin said. "I dun' think anyone can."

"Gotta try," Hickory argued, and he was obliged to follow the kitten's urging. He stepped inside.

He immediately recoiled in terror, heart pounding, eyes glazing. A dead doe lay inside. The scent told that she had just recently gone, maybe just moments ago. Mewing pitifully were two more kittens, curled in small balls of fur beside her.

Was it…

No, it can't be.

He didn't _know_ this doe. He couldn't possibly have _loved_ her. And if the curse were true as he believed it were then he couldn't have caused this death, because he didn't love this doe…

_ Chief_.

He heard Timothy's voice. Something the old rabbit had said a long, long time ago, before Hop had died, before everything became wrong. "A Chief loves his people, son. That's the only way to go…"

A sickening dread began to fill him.

It can't be…

Can it…?

He felt Hickory's scrutinizing gaze at him. "It's…" he began, but he was unable to grasp any words. _Another death_…

Yvin moved to touch his shoulder, but he pushed her away. "T-t-there are some things…" he said, talking not to her or her brother or the two other kittens but to himself. "That you just can't help…"

_ It's not my fault…_

"But…" Hickory began.

"There's nothing you _can_ do!" he cried, fleeing from the run and leaving the dumbstruck kittens behind. _Nothing_. _And it's not even your fault…_

_ It's not my fault…_

But she's dead, anyway. That doe. And Juniper. And his grandparents. Hop.

"Seed-rah?"

He felt the dread that had been building up turn into realization. Quillwort stood nearby, watching him with forlorn eyes. Then he knew. Frith, he knew, and all he was waiting for was someone to confirm that knowledge…

When the Captain spoke, the whole world turned upside down.

"Your father is dead."

***

"So I am Chief."

Seed lifted both ears, one ragged with scars from the hawk's attack so many Inlé cycles ago, and gazed forlornly into the distance. So ironic, to have news such as this on a beautiful dawn. But it did not seem to bother him, not in the least. Not the fact that Timothy was dead. Not the fact that the entire load of the warren had suddenly been transferred unto his frail shoulders. Not the fact that Lang-it crouched beside him, shivering uncontrollably.

He didn't care anymore.

He'd stopped caring not so long ago. 

"W-we'll move in a couple of hours." He saw Quillwort's mouth twitch, and, unsure of whether the rabbit planned to reply or not, he flicked his ears back, indicating he was to listen.

"That seems too far off," Quillwort told him.

"A-an hour then." He turned to Lang-it. The grey doe was oblivious of his stare, her face hidden beneath her quivering paws. He decided to let her alone and turned to leave.

It was good that Lang-it did not decide to look at him when he trod off, for had she seen the expression in her face, that hard-edged, stoned face so unlike Seed's, she would never for once have believed it was truly him.

***

The young rabbit found an empty burrow where he collapsed, giving in to the sudden exhaustion he'd been feeling, and falling into a deep, troubled sleep.

Had he known he would dream he would have tried to stay awake. He dreamt the same thing he had dreamt that night half an Inlé ago, only now it doubled in intensity, and the fears he'd felt then was nothing to the fears he felt now. _ Now_ he was aware what it meant…_now_ he was sure it was true…and when it dawned on him that he was only dreaming despite the certainty of the shadow-rabbit's words, he found he was unable to wake himself up…

Shivers wracked his body as he began to scream, kicking at the air, clawing at the fading image of the shadow-rabbit…an image which soon turned into a whirlwind of faces and voices—voices he knew, yet whose words he could not comprehend. Then they were gone, and all he could see was the darkness and the blurry outlines of the burrow…

He tried to move and found he could not.

He was still shivering. His breathing began to hurt, and suddenly he was aware he was paralyzed beyond control. Along with it came an irresistible urge to go back to sleep, but he couldn't—wouldn't…not when he couldn't move, not when he could barely breathe—and there, drowning all but little of his consciousness rang a sound akin to rushing water, pounding against his eardrums like a wave.

"Aye, all your heart touches shall fade, bringer of darkness…" the shadow said. He helplessly watched it by the entrance of the burrow. "Why do you even try to fight us?"

His mouth twitched, wanting to speak, but he could not. _I don't want to_, he thought. _Just leave me alone_.

"Seed-rah!"

The shadow disappeared.

A rabbit touched him briefly on one shoulder.

He jerked up, breathing heavily. There was nothing left of the incident but the tingling feeling in his limbs.

He turned to the rabbit. "W-who are you?" he asked in what may appear to be an annoyed voice, although he was more than thankful for being awoken from that dream…_that dream that was so horrifyingly true_.

"Elderberry," the rabbit replied, touching his nose. "Captain of the Patrols, sir. I've come to wake you up. We're leaving soon."

His gaze drifted to the burrow entrance, were moments ago the shadow-rabbit had stood, not in his dreams, though not quite in reality either. "Did…" he began. "D-d-did you s-see anyone else here…?"

Elderberry cocked his head. "I don't know what you mean, sir."

He lowered his gaze. No, even if it was true, it should appear in his eyes alone—after all, what would the use be if it showed itself to other rabbits? "N-nothing."

"Aye. You don't look so well."

"It's nothing…n-nothing, really." He lifted his hind legs to stand, but found them too weak. In an instance he toppled down, and landed against Elderberry's fur. "T-thank you," he said weakly, looking at the rabbit.

"You stick by me for now, sir. I'll take care of you," Elderberry said.

He didn't have Timothy's pride—he accepted help when he could and was glad to hear Elderberry's words. There were at least rabbits he could trust around here. "T-thank you," he repeated, standing on his own paws. Glancing up just in time to see Elderberry's smile, he followed the rabbit up the runs.

***

Quillwort was waiting for him at the head of the group, along with Dewdrops, Primrose, and a few other rabbits he didn't recognize. Lang-it was no where in sight…he was glad for this. At the moment he was sure he didn't want her anywhere near him. She was the last thing right now that he wouldn't want to lose.

"Is…is everyone ready?" he asked, advancing towards Quillwort. This was one of the few rabbits here he knew he could count on—him and Primrose, and just recently, Elderberry. Timothy, unlike his predecessors, hadn't take the necessary 'early training' to prepare him for Chiefhood, thinking it would be better to put it off until he was older—and this was exactly why Seed barely knew the rabbits in the council of leaders, especially since they've begun travelling.

Quillwort seemed to look past him for a moment before replying, "Yes."

"W-where are we going?"

Dewdrops stepped forward. "For the moment sir, our jolly objective is to try and shake those _Nizorn_ rabbits off our tail—but I don't see why we have to fear them now. I'm pretty sure we've slashed their numbers quite a bit, and even though they _are_ jolly well stronger then us…"

"Too strong to be ordinary rabbits," someone muttered.

"As I was saying, though they're stronger than us no fool would attack us with our number against what we saw they had…"

"Let's _jolly_ well hope that they don't have reinforcements," Quillwort said. "We _still_ have a reason to fear them, Dewdrops. As I recall we lost quite a number of rabbits in that skirmish."

"Bloody Inlé," Bracken remarked.

"Fine," Dewdrops retorted.

Seed lifted his brows. Quillwort coughed aloud and explained, "He does that a lot."

"As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted…" Dewdrops began.

The Captain of Owsla gave a snort. "Cut the _hraka_ and let's get to the meat of this subject. We're hoping to lose the Nizorn warren. Now, Dewdrops have secured a route with that, and I have no doubts that it will work, though that doesn't mean I like you any better." He passed the lanky buck a look.

"Frith, the system's falling apart…" Cotton was heard muttering to himself.

Quillwort coughed again. "Once we lose them we need to find a warren. We haven't decided yet, of course, but from Timothy-rah's last plans we were to find hills, which unless you object to it, we will follow just that."

Something in Quillwort's eyes told Seed it was useless to disagree, though he hadn't the mind to it. He nodded. "I-I see."

"So basically we're just getting away from Nizorn," Primrose interjected, sitting beside him. His presence calmed the young Chief's nerves.

Quillwort nodded. "At the moment. Yes."

Then silence befell them. Seed, looking at every rabbit, realized they were waiting for him to say something. He turned to Primrose. The rabbit nodded at him. "W-well…" he began, finding he had nothing to contribute to the situation. "I-I mean…yes. I-it's best we g-go…now…"

"Yes sir," Quillwort replied. Seed watched him stand from where he'd crouched and turn to all the rest. "All right, move it! Dewdrops—you lead the way—tell Carrot to watch his step, will you? Cotton! Go back down to the middle—you know your job. Bracken, make sure the guards are in their positions. Elderberry! Find Nizorn's position and keep it under surveillance while we're still in the area. Move!"

The rabbits fled in an instant, running fast like a bullet let loose.

Seed flicked his ears back. He wasn't sure this 'leading' thing was what he had in mind for his life. He looked back at Primrose. "Come on," the old rabbit told him. He furrowed his brows, and Primrose, seemingly understanding, said, "You really don't _have_ to manage the Owsla. That's what Quillwort's here for. Of course, you have the most influence on the warren, and once you've got the hang of this Quillwort might be nothing but a conveyor of messages. This will take time."

"Yes…" he muttered.

"We're moving. Let's go."


	20. 

** 20**

Travelling as a Chief was no different than before. He was nearer the head of the group, it was true, but just the same he'd follow the rabbits ahead, dashing or hiding when they told them to, and, contrary to Primrose's words, didn't have a margin of influence than had he been a kitten privileged to travel with grown-ups. Which was entirely the case, though Seed didn't seem to realize it. At the moment the heart of the warren was the Owsla, and most of the rabbits in it weren't impressed by their new Chief. What, they were to be led by a scraggly eight-month old? Since when did kittens qualify as Chiefs?

The fact that Quillwort was still Captain of Owsla didn't make things any better. Since his actions in Forest weeks ago, the Owsla had been secretly in disarray. Officers from all corners of the Owsla—patrollers, sentries, peace officers, even Junior Owsla, were in constant private debates, arguing Quillwort's case. And it was not a pretty thing.

For instance, something as harmless as sentry-duty during a stopover once broke into a bloody argument. Galingale, a sturdy three-year-old who'd seen better times and was in the Owsla during the Coltsfoot/Dog's-Tail era, had been silently minding his own business when a patroller approached him.

"Fennel?" Galingale asked, sensing the rabbit even in the dark. "Or is it Marjoram? I can't quite tell…"

"It's Fennel," the rabbit replied. 

"You off?"

"Yes. Listen—what was it with what I heard you say the other day to my brother? About Quillwort?"

Galingale sighed. Nowadays, it was impossible to say one's opinions without another badgering in. "Alright," he said. "I told him Quillwort shouldn't even _be_ in this position. What he did in Forest—that's just minor—imagine what else he might do if he remains Captain of Owsla. Eh? Don't you see he's jeopardizing the whole warren?"

"Quillwort's doing his best," Fennel retorted. "I've been with him in Owsla training—there was never a better rabbit for his job."

"Captain Coltsfoot—now _there's_ a Captain for you. It's a pity you're too _young_ to know, lad," Galingale replied. His voice remained calm, but he had lost his patience already. "I remember you were still _suckling_ when he died."

"Captain Coltsfoot this, Captain Coltsfoot that…"

"He was the ultimate Owsla, lad. It's a pity you youngsters had forgotten him. Especially you Quillwort-supporters."

Fennel rose to full height. "You're living in the past, old timer. Quillwort-supporter, right? Of course—I'm loyal to him all the way. And I'll show just how _much_."

He attacked. Galingale was smaller than he was, and the older, weaker rabbit didn't have time to defend himself. Minutes later the blood-smothered Fennel, horrified by what he just did, set off, leaving the post with a dead sentry.

Elderberry, of course, had found out. He, among the higher-Captains, was the only one so deeply aware of the constant battles made in Quillwort's name, and had taken the mind to call Fennel to him. Just as he was to do he reprimanded the rabbit, but took care not to rebuke him because of his opinions—rather, he made certain that Fennel got his point—he wasn't to kill anymore rabbits like that. He ignored the Quillwort-matter.

When Fennel had left Elderberry turned to the wall, a smirk on his face. Things were going well in his opinion. Very well.

Elderberry shared the same roots as Quillwort—pure Inléthlay, tracing his lines back to Fibre, one of the original Inléthlay rabbits to join Primrose-rah. A strategist, the three-year-old had been in the Owsla for two years. He lacked proper size and strength, and it was a wonder how he even made it this far, but he did—meticulously, through brains alone. Which was why patrolling became his specialty—after all, as long as you had the proper rabbits with you, patrolling didn't need as much physical prowess as sentry-duty, for instance.

He was probably the only truly happy rabbit in the warren that moment. If the Owsla continued to weaken this way it would prove well for his plans. Plans which he was about to pursue now. Having thought it over a thousand times, he stood and followed a run outside. There, he rubbed his paws over his muzzle and casually cast the sky a glance. "Eh. I'd say you're blessing me a whole lot, Frith, except I don't really believe that garbage. Well. Thanks anyway."

***

"You're always alone."

Seed cocked his head towards the voice. The scent told him it was Elderberry, and not minding the rabbit's presence at all, he moved sideways to make room for him in the root-formation he'd been sheltering in.

"I-it's necessary," he replied.

"Ah."

He leaned against a thick root as Elderberry crouched beside him. "The night is good," Elderberry said, looking up.

He did the same. In the distance, the leaves swayed against the wind's embrace. Stars peppered the dark sky. The scenery was peaceful—it calmed his heart even in the misery it had plunged itself into. He missed Lang-it. Elderberry's friendship was meaning a lot to him these days—it filled half the void of being separate from his sister.

"I guess," he said, when he'd taken in the cold air and marvelled at how good it felt. He lowered himself back to the ground. "W-what did you see me for?"

"You're like your father—direct to the point." Elderberry lifted one paw and licked it. "Then I'll be. It's Quillwort."

Seed turned to him quickly, surprised. He wasn't expecting this. "W-w-what of him?" he asked.

Elderberry took a quick glance around before replying. "Do you realize that he's been the hot topic of the Owsla these days?"

Seed looked at him blankly.

Elderberry shook his head. "I'm sorry sir—I didn't take into account that you're not that involved with the Owsla, yet. Well, let me explain. Do you remember what happened in Forest?"

"I-I wasn't there, but Primrose…P-Primrose told me. He attacked H-Hazel's brother." He flicked his ears back. Suddenly the coldness of the night didn't seem so good anymore. He sensed an incoming problem, which as Chief, he would have to handle. And he wasn't ready for that. "W-what about it?"

"Well. I'm not sure about the statistics, but for simplicity's sake—half of the Owsla hates him and the other half would defend him to death." Elderberry licked his lips. "The Owsla is weakening. A rabbit was killed a while ago."

"N-no way…"

"Yes, I'm afraid. And that's not half of it." Elderberry looked about again. "Rumour has it, from the side that hates him, of course, that he plans to overtake the warren. In other words—eliminate you."

"What?" Seed exclaimed, losing his stutter momentarily. He furrowed his brows. "What do you mean by that?"

Elderberry continued, unmoved. "Look at this. With you dead, who'll be Chief? Primrose, possibly—what if he's dead, too? And Lang-it…"

"No way—don't…don't—not her…"

"With the three of you gone, so goes the last of Ghost's known descendants. Then the rules would have to be thrown away. Quillwort will be Chief."

"I-it's just a rumour, r-right?" It _had_ to be.

"Look at Quillwort. What do you think?"

"H-he's doing his job."

"Aye. Way too much. What has he made you do the past few days you've been Chief? He suggests you do something—no, he suggests you say 'yes' to something. Don't you see? He's trying to gain the upper-hand here." Elderberry lifted one paw and touched his nose with it. "All I'm saying is, watch out for Quillwort. If he stays in his position two possibilities will emerge—the Owsla will fall apart, or _you_ and your family will."

Elderberry removed his paw, allowing Seed to turn his head away and contemplate. Quillwort…? But he—no, it couldn't be…his father—Timothy trusted Quillwort with his whole heart. Shouldn't he, too? But then…

Timothy _hated_ him. It was a possibility Quillwort has the same feelings.

"W-what would you do…" he asked, though not looking at Elderberry. His eyes remained focused on the ground, a blank stare in conjunction with his churning thoughts. "If…i-if you were in my position?"

"Me?"

"You."

"I don't believe you trust my opinions that much, sir…"

"Please."

There was a sniff. "I'd—I'd remove Quillwort."

"From the warren?"

"Yes."

Seed flicked his ears up and turned to Elderberry. He twitched his nose. "B-but then…who'll I make Captain of Owsla? I b-barely know a-anyone there. Let alone good candidates."

He did not see the smirk along the edge of Elderberry's lips…he did not see the excited gleam in his eyes. "Whoever you think is proper," was all he took notice of. "Whoever you trust would do the job."

"Who?"

"I'm not in any position to say so, sir. But anyone who's had experience is good."

He turned away again, eyes blurry, head reeling from too much thought. "C-can you leave me alone for a while?" he asked. "I need to think…" _More_.

"As you wish."

Elderberry left. He barely noticed the rabbit leave—didn't watch him go. He continued his train of thought. Quillwort, betray him? It occurred to him that he didn't know the rabbit as much as he thought he did—who else was plotting behind his back? Not Elderberry, of course. After all, the rabbit did tell him everything. And certainly not Primrose, his uncle, and the gentlest rabbit he'd known. Dewdrops, Cotton, Bracken, Carrot—who else curses him when he turns away? Who else would want to see him dead?

The downfall of Seed—so soon, aye, so soon. He shook his head. He couldn't allow Quillwort to do that, provided he would. He wasn't about to give up his position that easily. And he wasn't about to endanger Lang-it…

Horror struck him.

Was _this_ how _she_ would go?

He had to remove Quillwort then…

And fast.

"Your face has changed since I last saw you."

A doe appeared in sight, lithe and sleek and of nimble movement, and for a moment he thought—_wished_—that she was Lang-it. She wasn't, to his dismay, but then before he could sink further in despair he recognized her face. "You're…" he began. "Haithi?"

"Haini," she corrected, giggling. He thought the sound was the most blessed thing he'd heard all day. He found his heart lightening up, and soon he was laughing with her.

"Call me Weed then," he said, gaining his composure. "How have you been?"

"Oh, here and there—you know, usual life." She sat beside him and he couldn't believe she was real—was she? She seemed _far_ too beautiful, especially in the moonlight. "You?"

"I—ah…" he stammered, more than usual. "I mean—it's okay…"

"You don't have to lie. I know how tough being a Chief is." She placed her paw on his shoulder. Her touch, even to his furred skin, sent flickers of electricity down his nerves. Frith, was he in love…?

"Y-you do…?" he asked, finding nothing else to say.

"My father told me."

"W-who's he?"

"Captain Dog's-Tail. You remember him, of course?"

"Dog's-Tail? Of course I remember him." Seed flicked his ears. Dog's-Tail was one of his favourite rabbits, although he'd only seen him a few times when he was a kitten. There was no better storyteller in all of Primrose-rah, and though old, Dog's-Tail had always appeared young in his eyes—he was always laughing, smiling, and calling everyone younger than he was—which was _everyone_—son or daughter. Now that the name presented itself upon him he also remembered that Dog's-Tail had been gone since late spring. He went, as the rabbits said, on 'the long patrol', alone, and it wasn't likely he was coming back. "He was one great rabbit," Seed muttered.

"He always will be," Haini told him.

"Y-yes. After all, h-he did s-sire one b-b-beautiful d-daughter…"

She smiled at him. "Thank you."

He found his words had run out, and sat staring at her with his jaw slightly loose. Finally, after what seemed like hours, she stood and touched her nose to his. His breath came raggedly, and he barely heard her words. "I have to go now. See you around…"

He recovered only when she was gone, though her scent still lingered in the air. His thoughts had staggered towards Haini, and he briefly wondered how old she was. She probably wasn't any older than Lang-it, which would make her around seven months. He himself was eight—nine Inlé cycles was the minimum age for taking a mate, as far as the warren rules go. If they pass through winter he might be able to ask her…

_ If_.

He remembered the curse…

His world went crashing down again. Furious, he stood and decided to take a walk around camp. What else was there to do? He didn't care that the _elil_ may see him. Let them come. _Let them come_.

He saw few rabbits around the area, the rest hidden out of sight and reach, and those he did see did not seem to recognize him. In the dark, he was nothing more but a kitten with one ragged ear, with his low, cautious gait, quite unlike the proud way Timothy and Ghost had held themselves when they were Chief. And he didn't care. He doubted he would have replied had they greeted him, anyway.

He paused by a small patch of grass and began to feed, nibbling on the delicate blades for a few moments, lifting his head to look around and scent the next, hindquarters tense beneath him, ready to take him flying across the turf at any sign of danger. When he was a bit full he left the plain grass to search for better flay, some dandelion, perhaps, or clover. His problems were forgotten for that moment.

Some time later he found he was not alone. Rising from the ground, he sniffed the air and located a rabbit scavenging for better flay as he was. He licked his lips. The rabbit looked like a buck in the darkness. Suddenly lonely for company, he made his way towards it.

As he got nearer he realized the scent spoke of the rabbit as a doe—a little hefty for one, and without Haini's elegance or grace. She held herself with certainty, however, as if she knew exactly what was going about, and that she could handle it, whatever it was.

She was looking at him, already aware of his presence. He stopped in front of her and peered closely into her face. Her ears were somewhat pointy at the top, quite unlike the rounded tips most wild rabbits have. "Useth?" he promptly asked, recognizing her that instant.

She licked her lips. "Glad you remember me."

He froze. Now he remembered—he was supposed to ask Timothy of taking her into the Owsla. He hadn't had the chance—the last time he'd talked to the rabbit was when he learned about the curse. "I'm…" he muttered. "S-sorry."

She turned away from him.

He looked around, then gathered up enough courage to approach her and sit a few inches near her. "L-listen," he said. "I-I didn't mean to ignore that t-thing I said…I m-mean, some things came up—some things…but I'm Chief now…"

"I am very well aware of that."

"Yes—anyway—you're…wise and all, aren't you?"

She passed him a strange look. He did not mind it as he continued. "M-meaning to say, can you g-give me advice?"

"On what?" Doubtful, as ever.

"What if you had to kick out someone…l-like, someone you think you trust and h-has proof to show for that, but—but letting him stay might make things w-worse. What would you choose?"

She flicked her ears. "Seems like a tough one. I guess it's like a patrol of some sorts. You've taken this trail so many times, and you know _elil_ never come this way—you trust that trail so much you could sleep on it for days straight and come out alive. But then one day suddenly, you smell an _elil_ in there. Would you ignore it? What decision would be less risky?" She shrugged. "But of course, that's different. That's what made me an Owsla, and makes you a Chief."

He crouched down beside her and gave a smirk. "I never wanted to be a Chief."

"I don't want to be in the Owsla either."

"Then why do you want to join it, still?"

She gazed upwards, and after a while, he did the same. Looking at the sky again, peace returning in some way. "I guess," she muttered, loud enough for him to hear. "I guess it's the thing that you just got to do."

"But you have a choice. I had none."

She turned to him, and he looked into her eyes and thought of how dark they were, almost black. "Yes, I do have a choice, it seems. But that's what makes it more difficult. I could turn my back away, but then that won't be right."

When the silence came, Seed didn't mind it that much. Useth's words had enlightened him and now he knew what he had to do.

***

Seed was unsure on what he was to say. Quillwort sat idly nearby, aware of his presence but choosing to keep quiet about it. He just wasn't that good with words. He passed a look to the two guards that flanked him. It wasn't that Quillwort was likely to attack, but it was better to be safe than sorry—he knew his own strength was nothing compared to the Captain of Owsla…

_ Former Captain_, he thought sagely. Well, it was now or never. He approached Quillwort and stopped a few feet in front of him. Quillwort's ears were up, but he was silent. He knew something was wrong. Seed would never approach him with two guards in tow.

"Y-you…" Seed stammered, thinking of the proper words to say. "I m-mean, you're sort of…"

Quillwort flicked his ears.

"L-look, Quillwort. I know you're a good Captain and all, but I have to do this. F-from this moment on, y-you're no longer Captain of Owsla."

Quillwort stared at him, unmoving. Was this how Quillwort showed his shock? He saw a sparkle of fury in the rabbit's eyes and found one of his hindquarters sliding backwards.

"Where's the joke?" Quillwort asked, after a few moments.

"This isn't a joke."

"Who gave you the right?"

"I-I'm Chief."

Quillwort snorted, and Seed could see his whiskers move slightly. He decided to back up a bit.

"Why?"

"You know."

If Quillwort was mad he didn't show it the way Timothy would have done. Instead of cursing he simply nodded his head and turned around, leaving Seed and the two guards behind.

Seed turned around, glancing at the guards. They didn't seem to be too pleased with what Seed had done, but at the moment the Chief didn't care. He had to tell the rest of the warren.

On the way back to the hearth of the camp he met up with Elderberry. "How did it go?" the rabbit asked, trotting beside him.

"H-he's an ordinary rabbit now," Seed replied.

Elderberry paused for a moment. "You didn't arrest him?" He sounded genuinely surprised.

"He hasn't done anything wrong, yet," Seed replied. "It wouldn't be proper."

"That's wise of you. I think if there's a revolt your new Captain of Owsla would take care of it. You've found him, I presume?"

"Yes. I'll announce it later on."

Elderberry stopped walking, allowing Seed to leave him behind. The way Seed had spoken the last words—he never even looked at him. No, this can't be. It can't be. He growled in frustration. Now he knew what this meant.

Things had taken a wrong swerve, and it was time for him to rebuild his plans.

***

The rabbits hadn't even gotten over the shock of the announcement that Quillwort had been removed when Seed announced the new Captain of Owsla. And then there was a silent uproar. Who the _Inlé_ was that? Things didn't get any better when Seed left Primrose to approach the Captain, and nodded his head. "I-it's you, now," he said. "Didn't I promise?"

Useth flicked her ears. "You did."

"Y-you said you didn't…care what position…"

"I did, didn't I?"

"W-well, that means you're the Captain now…"

"Seed." She paused, looking into his eyes. "Why me?"

Seed shrugged, and motioned to her to follow him back to where Primrose and the other Captains were. "Because I trust you."


	21. 

** 21**

_ He_ was a demon. The Black Rabbit incarnate. His war-cry was haunting.

_ Why could I be afraid o' him? He be dead. He…I killed him. We killed him._

_ How can you be sure? You saw him. You saw him torn almost in half and he almost killed you…_

It was the very thing that made him retreat in the first place. Grappling with his opponent, he was so sure of victory. It had taken him some time to reach his enemy's side, for the rest of his rabbits had been too eager for bloodshed—he didn't even expect the rabbit to be alive by the time he got to him. When he did, Timothy's flesh was ripped in more than a dozen places. He had smiled and lunged for the kill.

Timothy had yelled aloud and sidestepped. Hemlock had stared in shock as the rabbit brought him down with his own, battered body, and tried to reach at his throat, all in a split second. He had kicked Timothy away and during the process had torn a chunk out of the rabbit's neck. It was here that he had waited, waited for what he knew was inevitable, waited for the dark rabbit to fall down and render his victory. There was no other way. The rabbit was gushing blood.

Before he had known what was happening, a claw reached out and struck his face open…

"Hemlock…"

The heavy rabbit turned at the sound of his name, blinking beneath the crusted wound that extended from his left brow to his right cheek. The days had strengthened him from the injuries he had sustained from the battle with Primrose-rah, but he still hadn't completely recovered, and the scars would remain.

"What be?" he asked, blinking again. His face pained with his every motion, and he could barely see a thing. Neither could he scent so well. But he had ears and he could talk, and that was all that mattered for the moment.

"Methinks we din' catch them now—they be too far f'er us. An' ti's not wise. We be few by number. We need tae rest an' wait f'er Heather's rabbits." Centaury sneezed. "'Sides, t'is gettin' colder. I din' think they be goin' far, this rate."

"Ye' be right," Hemlock replied, lifting his head slightly. "Aye, we'll find someplace tae stay f'er a while. Replenish our rabbits some way. Hae ye' ever heard of kittens born tae winter? T'is the proper season tae try."

Centaury laughed. "Aye. But, do I send a messenger tae Heather tae tell him the events? An' our location. Unless we plan tae move soon."

"Nae, we dinnae be movin' far as we used tae. Send Walnut tae him—he be a good an' proper 'un. Southeast from last base, aye?"

"Aye."

"As f'er the Primrose-rah rabbits, t'is best tae send Woodrush an' Gorse f'er spyin' measures. Methinks they should find a place tae stay in permanently soon, an' we ought tae know where t'is."

"I'll get tae it. Need anythin' else?"

"Other than peace an' quiet? Nae, methinks."

"Then I'll see ye." Centaury withdrew from the burrow, leaving him alone. He blinked again, mentally tracing the wound across his face. It would leave a scar. _There goes mae looks_, he thought wryly, although it didn't really matter. He just hoped his sight wouldn't be affected.

He flinched and slowly curled himself up, back paws touching his snout. He wasn't sleepy, having slept continuously the past few days. So he resigned himself to some heavy thinking. Particularly concerning Primrose-rah.

He'd lost half of the rabbits he'd had to his assault on it, leaving him with mostly nursing does and kittens. Since then, quite a number of his rabbits had begun to have doubts concerning this objective of theirs. Why did they have to fight and overtake? They didn't voice it out loud, of course—Hemlock learned this only through Bthas—and he was certain they wouldn't do any actual rebellion. He bit his lip. Aye, would he do anything to please his people—like them all he really wanted to do was to find a proper place and settle down without concern, and grow old (and fat, he thought with humour) watching their kittens grow. But the need to fulfill his duties was stronger, and after seeing his rabbits killed, it began to mingle with the want for revenge.

"Din' worry. I'll do it. I'll take Primrose-rah f'er mae own," he muttered. An image flashed into his mind. An image, and then memories…

***

Ghost's Owsla was strong compared to Cherry's, and at the battle where Autumn's life had been claimed, Betony found his forces gradually dwindling with the setting sun. He turned around and struck the hefty lop-eared that stood in his way, cursing aloud, only to be met by more intense swearing. And then he was cuffed senseless.

He woke up, moments later, to find the lop-eared gone. With every enemy grappling against one of his officers, he found it an easy task to limp away and disappear into the bushes.

In the wood he met up with several others who'd escaped as well. When dawn arrived the entire group limped northwards, Betony at its head. There was no mistaking the facts. Quieflain was down. Whatever was left of it would no longer be what it was.

"What do we do now?" the rabbits had asked him. Most were officers—the civilian rabbits had no need to escape. He'd looked at them and shrugged as a reply.

By ni-Frith they'd reached the pastures north of Quieflain, and here he decided to rest. It wasn't likely Ghost had sent troops after them—there was no need to hurry. He was certain their escape had been missed.

He left the rabbits to do some digging and set himself as a post near the edge of the field, blinking warily and licking his wounds with disdain. "Bloody Inlé," he remarked, thinking of Cherry. The rabbit was probably dead.

"So, this is the downfall of the great Quieflain army," came a mocking comment. Betony turned his head towards the speaker. It was a doe, and he recognized her as Cherry's youngest daughter.

"Gwyhn," he said.

"What will the neighbouring warrens say once they hear of how it fell to the small warren of Primrose-rah?" She sat beside him and shook her head. "Cherry wasn't a very good Chief, but I've expected more from you."

Betony lifted one lip and turned away. "From what I've seen, they've employed help from a southwest warren called Inléthlay. It's as big as Quieflain."

"And they had dogs."

"Dogs?" Betony asked, lifting his brows.

"Still, had your officers been more well-trained, we could have stood our guard. We could have swiped them." She laid her ears flat. "So what are you planning to do now, Betony-rah?"

"…I don't know," he admitted.

She pressed her nose against his shoulder. "I know something."

He flicked his ears. "What do you mean?"

She looked up. Her face was that of her _marli, _but her _eyes_ were Cherry's—light, eloquent, speaking of determination and power. He could not help but admire them. "These rabbits you have. So few in number. But in a while we could have more, and we will train them. Have you heard the expression, 'He who lives with the _elil_ grows stronger everyday'? We'll travel—only strong rabbits will be fit to travel. In a few years we'll have strong, tough rabbits…"

"Such great ambitions," he muttered.

"But I can read your eyes and they agree with me."

"So you can, so you can," he said with a smile. "And when we have a larger army we can overtake Primrose-rah."

"Aye. Give them a taste of their own medicine."

"Will we succeed?"

She nuzzled his shoulder. "I don't know. But we'll try…"

***

They did. When all their wounds had healed Betony led them northwards, away from the warren whose memories would haunt them forevermore. How far north they went no one could tell, but as Betony kept telling them, it wasn't the destination that mattered, it was the journey. Grudgingly, the rabbits accepted this and continued to follow him.

How Betony's warren, Nizorn—_High Destruction_—as it came to be called, survived through the rigors of a vagrant life, no one really knew. It was the rare kitten that would live to be two seasons—most of them would succumb to illnesses, exhaustion, and the ever-present _elil_. Consequently, all the rabbits that lived to be adults were the tougher ones, ones who could stay guard all night in blinding rain and come home with nothing but a headache, and avoid _elil_ that were miles away.

Training was a part of their life. Betony and Gwyhn saw to it that each rabbit received more than sufficient Owsla knowledge and that fighting and tracking would become second nature to them. Preliminary training would begin when a kitten was three weeks old, and last until he or she was six months—then, throughout their adulthood, they would receive a run through of what they know every Inlé or so.

It was to this harshness that Hemlock had been born to, and at the meagre age of two weeks he had been buried from paw to ears in the murkiness that was to be his life. By that time he had faced hunger, braved teeth and claws of _elil_, watched his littermates succumb on the trail—mewling for help to their unsympathetic mother who had seen this happen before and knew there was nothing she could do to help—and trembled in the uncertainty of the future. No—there was no future then, not in Hemlock's eyes. The world was too big and his paws were too small, and tomorrow might bring disaster that would end his toil in a matter of minutes. Their next stop might yield little food—a _homba_ might find their holes and kill _him_—he might live one moment and die the next…

Despite these thoughts Hemlock had held on. Bravely, some called it—stubbornly says the rest. After all, _he_ was the one that fell down that well and had the guts and luck to manage to clamber out of it. Gwyhn and Betony, by then the oldest rabbits in the group, could not help but think that fate was kind enough to bring Cherry back in the subtler form that was Hemlock. That incident with the well had been enough to prove to both of their younger son's capabilities, and when early summer arrived Betony had taken him aside and, blinking through milk-white eyes that had grown blind since spring, proclaimed him the new leader of the warren. The rabbits were ecstatic.

Days later Betony died. And Gwyhn was suddenly gone, not long after. Hemlock fully became Chief in the informal manner Nizorn's system had evolved into, with his brother Heather as second-in-command. And that evening, under Inlé's soft shine, he pushed his rabbits southward, urgently, where he knew the future lay as bright as Frith Himself…

***

"Ye hae Centaury, dinnae ye?" Hemlock asked, staring at the wrinkled old rabbit with doubt. "An' all the rest. Methinks they dinnae accept me. I'm too young."

"Dinnae ye'r age that matters," Betony replied, his voice still strong despite his wired features, harshly accented from his dealings with the northern warrens along their travels. "Ye hae determination, though ye should dinnae let this get intae ye'r head. Centaury's wise an' smart but ye'r stronger, methinks, an' though a leader be able tae borrow wits he dinnae be able tae borrow another's strength…"

"Ye'r sayin'," he said with a snort. "Or so, but methinks I dinnae be knowin' where tae go, or how tae lead, or anythin' f'er that matter…"

"South."

He pricked his ears. Betony had turned sideways to where the direction was, ears up as if he could see something that wasn't really there. "South," the rabbit repeated, in response to his unspoken question. "There's a warren there f'er ye. I know what ye know—ye dinnae be wantin' tae travel, dinnae ye? Neither do the others. So. Primrose-rah be its name."

"Primrose-rah? That's the warren from the stories…"

"Dinnae stories, son. Ye know t'is the truth."

"Aye, but I dinnae thought ye wanted tae go back…" Hemlock drew a paw across his face.

"I wanted tae. Aye, I wanted tae. More'n ever I wanted tae tear mae claws intae Ghost's flesh an' curse him f'er hurtin' mae warren. But dinnae be possible. Nae. Ye know I'm too old. So I waited instead, an' waited, an' now mae force be strong, an' it all rests in ye'r paws…"

"I am tae lead Nizorn intae Primrose-rah an' take it for mae own…"

"Aye."

"An' if I can, take Quieflain an' Forest down with it…"

"Aye."

"Nae more journeys f'er them once that's through…"

"Nae more dead kittens, nae more fear."

Hemlock looked south and remembered the stories they told him about Primrose-rah. _A hill—prosperous and safe_… Then he remembered the empty look in his siblings' eyes when they fell, leaving him and Heather the lone survivors of that litter. At that moment the future, that bleak, empty future, began to fill and take shape, and then he knew he would accept, knew he would not turn back. He would fulfill his father's wishes. He would fulfill his.

"Ye honour me with this." He touched Betony's forehead with his nose and drew back as the rabbit smiled.

"Frith blessed me with a son like ye. The praise goes tae Him."

***

He lifted his head. "Dinnae be long," he said to the unseen ghost that lay within the boundaries of his mind. "Nae." His eyes flickered and he leaned back against the burrow walls. He did not notice it when sleep overcame him…

…he did not notice it when the laughter of a rabbit he didn't know rang through the air and engulfed him, until dreams full of hatred ran into his mind, and the rabbit and he became one…


	22. 

** 22**

"S-so this is…a road."

Seed was apprehensive of the strange surface, dark grey and smelling thick of tar and oil and Frith-knows-what. He watched as Dewdrops and Carrot expertly ran across it, cringing as they called out to him. "Come on! There's no jolly old danger, I'm pretty sure of that!" Dewdrops encouraged.

He shook his head, unsure. There were _hrair_ things that could happen if he touched this thing—after all, it _was_ man-made, who knows what powers it had? He wrinkled his nose and distastefully stepped back. "W-we better find another way…" he said.

"Wuss," Useth promptly said.

He turned to her in shock. "W-what did you—just say?"

She shrugged and, a little more cautiously than the two trackers, she made her way across the road. Seed watched her disappear in the adjoining foliage, then poke her head out moments later. "Look!" she cried. "You can either stay there and sulk all day, or we could get going and find a place before winter comes!"

"Are you sure you should be shouting at the Chief?" Carrot asked. "I mean, you're Captain of Owsla and all but I don't think…"

"_I_ think it's okay. I'm a doe. Get moving you clump of chickweed _hraka_!"

Seed, burning with rage for but a split moment, managed to cross. He landed on the side, glad to finally have earth beneath his paws, then turned to glare at Useth. "I could've done it without the insults…" he pressed.

Shrugging, Useth trotted off after Dewdrops and Carrot. "Yes, but it's the quicker way."

"Does," Seed was heard muttering beneath his breath as he followed her.

Eventually, the foliage began to disappear, leaving only grass behind. By this time Seed realized that the ground was gently sloping downwards, and up here, he could see the countryside for miles at length. He looked around, then sat down to view the scenery with something akin to excitement.

"T-the hills," he said.

"Yep. There it is, and just waiting for jolly old us," Dewdrops replied. Seed nodded in response. Those hills—they seemed so far away. Yet he knew that if they were to reach them the warren would be safe at last. There were only a few scatterings of human-territory he could see, and they were far from the hills itself.

"W-what if there's a w-warren already in it?" Seed asked at length, realizing things seemed far too perfect to be right. He turned around to see Dewdrops shrug and Carrot view him with a blank look. "W-well?"

"That doesn't matter a whole deal right now, does it?" Useth replied. She sat beside him and looked towards the hills. Seeing this, he did the same, brows furrowed. "Look. There are quite a number of them. I don't think it's possible that an entire warren could occupy _all_ those hills."

Seed glanced at her. "Y-you're right. A-and if it _is_ occupied I'm sure we can go with some sort of a-agreement between us."

"Uh huh. You both are jolly good at this," Dewdrops interrupted. "But I don't think you can quite see that jolly blue thing surrounding the jolly hills…"

"What blue thing?" Useth asked.

Seed peered at the horizon again. Blue—blue…there! He could see it. It stretched out in front of the hills, dividing them from the nearest man-territory with a natural boundary. "N-no way," he said. "That looks like a big river or something."

"Very big river," Dewdrops said. "I mean, have you ever seen one that big even from this far?"

"How in Frith's bloody name are we supposed to cross _that_?" Useth asked, shaking her head. "I don't think even the best swimmers could cross half of it and make it out alive."

Dewdrops sighed. "Well, what can we do? Seed? We could change routes."

Seed licked his lips. The hills were there, right in front of their eyes. Their future lay there. That much he knew, that much he believed. He shook his head. "We'll find a way when we get there," he said.

"If we get there," Carrot remarked.

"Is the river half-full or half-empty?" Useth asked, giving the tracker a sideways glance.

"Well, I needed to say something, didn't I?" he defended.

Seed laughed and decided to head back to camp.

***

It was midday, and the entire warren rested under Frith's heat, hidden as always beneath the long, thick grass, temporary burrows, bushes, and tree roots. Only a few rabbits and the sentries, sitting motionless on their posts, were awake and about, though they were careful to obscure themselves. Most _elil_ would have passed by them and be none-the-wiser.

"…and the instructor didn't want any bloody Inlé to do with me so he even made it a case to call on Ghost-rah and tell him I ought to…let me quote…'Go far, far away and study in a mud pit…' so I said he was a poophead—literally…and I had to do burrow-cleaning for that week."

Useth nodded, her eyes on the verge of closing and shutting her off from the world and Bracken's babble for even just a few minutes. This was exactly what she'd never missed from the Owsla—sentry duty. It was always so boring. Consequently, bored rabbits tended to talk, and earlier, when she'd passed by and greeted Bracken hello, he'd pounced on the chance to pummel her with his stories.

She could only hear the drumming of his voice now, and whatever point he was trying to make she no longer cared about. "Yes…" she heard herself muttering. Sleep was so near. All she had to do was close her eyes and…

Quillwort?

Her eyes snapped open and she lifted her head. The rabbit passed by, barely glancing at them, his fur more of a tangled mess now, eyes infuriated. He soon disappeared in the adjoining bushes.

"What's Quillwort doing now?" she suddenly asked.

Bracken broke from his story. "What? Oh. I don't really know. Some of my lads see him often around the outskirts of the group, but he really doesn't bother with anyone anymore. Real pity, you know. I'm not saying you're a bad Captain and all but neither was he."

"I know," Useth remarked. "…I know how good he is. Why would Seed remove him?"

"Well, about a day before he got kicked out, one of my sentries was killed because of a fight. It was related to him. I guess that's got to do with it. Something to do with the lower officers fighting over whether he should stay or not." Bracken shrugged. "I don't know. Do you like Seed as a Chief?"

Useth glanced him over. It was obvious Bracken was making sure he didn't cross the wrong rabbits. After all, even though she was younger than he was, the only rabbit with more power than she had was Seed. "He's an amateur," she said, not really sure on what she was saying. "But then…" she quickly added, before Bracken had a chance to say anything. "So am I. Weren't we all once?"

"Yes, I guess…" Bracken replied.

She saw the hesitant way he hung his head back and then realized the true meaning of his words. _It isn't Quillwort that's the problem_, she thought with growing fear. _It's Seed_. It wouldn't have concerned her in the past, but now she was second in command his business was hers, ironic as it may seem. "I-I have some things I have to check…" she mumbled, and without waiting for a reply she left Bracken behind to pursue her own thoughts.

***

"Lang-it, get up! We're going raiding."

The grey doe gingerly opened her eyes and sensed Thislay looming over her. There was a fresh, excited scent about the doe, and she was pacing restlessly to and fro the burrow entrance. Behind her sat two other does.

Lang-it yawned. "Raid what?" she asked. "We're in the middle of nowhere."

"Quite the contrary, Lang-it," one of the does behind Thislay called out. "We've found this marvellous place nearby. Hidden behind a ditch. Sweetest Autumn _ flay_." The doe gave a nibbling sound. "Thislay and I had some when we came here and went exploring. I'm pretty sure it's still there."

"Okay, lets," the grey doe said, hopping out of the burrow. She had been bored out of her wits for the longest time, and this was the first adventure within reach. Following Thislay's lead, they emerged from the rough burrows and made a quick, clumsy beeline towards their objective.

The ditch held the same dry grass Lang-it had gotten used to since the season began, though she had to admit it tasted a tad better. She nibbled slowly, having eaten a few hours before, and was looking up as she did so. A hickory stood nearby, its branches sheltering the ditch. The wind rushed by and she felt a comforting coolness spread all over her.

"Lang-it…"

Thrennion, one of the does, had withdrawn from their chatter and was standing next to her, ears flicking. "Ummm…" Lang-it stammered, having forgotten what their conversation had been about. "…I think Bracken's cute too…?"

"Oh Lang-it, you're such a honey," Thrennion giggled. She sat beside the younger doe. "I was going to ask you a question."

"Which is…?" Lang-it lifted her brows.

"You've been a little under the weather lately. Anything we could do about it?"

She smiled. The does have always been good friends to her, though it was only recently that she had started to spend more time with them. "It's not really that bad," she said. To prove her point, she leaped into the air and landed between Thislay and Kothen. 

"Watch it, Lang-it!" Thislay cried, stepping back in a mockingly irritated tone. She gave Lang-it a grin.

"Life's at its best, okay?" she said. She hopped around the grass, stepping on their food and succeeding in eliciting groans from the does. "Life's at its best." She slowed down and sat up. "It has to be," she said, looking at her companions. Her eyes looked weak. "Seed's Chief."

"Oh," Thrennion sighed. "Oh."

"Is Seed…your true brother?" Kothen blurted out. The does turned to her, and she shrugged. "I mean, it's general knowledge in the warren that you two are brother and sister but you look too much like G…"

"Shush," Thislay snapped. She crouched beside Lang-it and nosed the doe's ear. "She's Seed's sister. Whose daughter she is isn't important." She turned to the grey doe. The light in Lang-it's eyes had faded. She was now looking intently at the grass, oblivious of her friends.

Thislay had known Lang-it and her family more than the other two does, but as they looked towards her for explanation, she chose not to reveal it. Lang-it's pain was hers alone. 

***

It would have mattered if he hadn't held her in his paws and lulled her to sleep with a poem he'd composed on the spot. It wouldn't have mattered if his eyes didn't give way to a gentle, scrutinizing gaze, deep blue like the sky on a clear spring's morning, sparkling into her own. It wouldn't have mattered if she hadn't remembered these subtle things…

But she did.

She did, not so clearly, and for many a time she'd thought the memories were naught but from a dream. But she remembered them. She remembered the feeling. She remembered gazing at the star-filled sky one night, the hum of the wind against her ears, the instinctive fear of the _elil_ all but gone in his presence. Vivid as the memories were, no one remembered dreams that way. Dreams were blurry. This was only covered with a slight spray of fog, thin enough that she could see everything, yet it was still thick enough that she would doubt its reality.

Aye, so it was she fought between these two thoughts, heart demanding it had happened, so long ago, but it did, and mind logically making her think things over and agree it was merely a dream. When she was younger these two battled constantly—when she grew older the mind began to win…

After all, Ghost was Ghost. An ordinary rabbit sharing her mother's burrow and calling himself her sire. But that was all. His blue eyes were cold and frosted whenever she looked at them—if she could look at them. He never bothered to gaze at her. She'd thought, perhaps, it was something _she_ did. Willow said it wasn't. Seed, as it were, wasn't sure. Timothy told her she was thinking too much. She'd left it at that and decided that that was just the way Ghost was…

Then one day she saw him and Seed and she'd stopped in her tracks and thought, _why doesn't he look at me that way?_

Then she'd remember he _did_.

Once.

A long, long time ago…

He never told, or showed, or gave her a clue as to why it was so, what it was she did that made him cold and uncaring towards her whom he'd once gazed at with such love. She gave up trying to find the reason when he died. When he and Willow died. That had been change number two. And all the rest came soon after that…

***

"Don't mind me," she told her friends, giving them a smile. Thrennion bit her lip and thought about how much it looked forced.

"Oh Lang-it," she sighed. "You don't know when to cry, do you?"

She turned to her in askance, ears cocked.

"Cry, Lang-it. You have to cry, sometime…"

There was a quick rustle, and a high-pitched squeal sounded across the air in that second. Thislay leaped back—Thrennion flattened herself against the ground. When their senses returned, Kothen and Lang-it were gone. The only thing remaining of them were the tufts of fur on the grass. The two does looked at each other quietly, then bounded back towards camp, their noses full of _ hombil_ scent. 


	23. 

** 23**

"All I'm saying is," Useth said, her front paws shuffling as she crouched. "You've got to be careful on what you do or order them to do. It's a dire position, this one you're in. We don't know who'd support you if things get bad."

"I understand," Seed said, nodding. He flicked his ears before giving her a vague smile. "T-thanks for the warning. I'll try to be p-pretty careful."

He leaned back and saw Useth's ears go up. His whiskers twitched, but it wasn't for a while before he heard what she did. Steps. Outside. Seed rose from where he sat just in time to meet the horrified gaze of Thislay.

"S-Seed…" she gasped. "It's Lang!"

The mention of her name was something Seed wasn't expecting. Alarmed, he pushed his nose straight at her, his nostrils flaring. "Wh-what do you mean?"

"There was a fox—or two, I don't know. It took her and Kothen. I didn't know what to do, they just disappeared…"

_ No._

He didn't wait for Thislay to finish. He bolted straight outside, into the coolness of early evening, and began to yell out orders for rabbits to follow and find Lang-it, and soon. His words came out garbled, confusion reigning supreme over his entire being, but he saw to his relief several Owsla running off to do as he willed. Then, he himself took off behind them, ignoring Useth's stricken warnings as he ran on.

A black rabbit materialized beside him.

"…why do you keep on trying?" the rabbit asked.

He gazed at it in horror. "I'm—I'm not…" he said.

The rabbit disappeared into thin air, but before he could gather his thoughts it reappeared in front of him. Hazy black, barely existing, bordering between the realm of reality and dreams. "You are."

"I'm not…" he said, walking backwards and then bolting away from the shadow.

"You are," it repeated, once more appearing and barring his path.

He shook his head. "I-I don't even see her anymore…"

"You love her."

It drifted closer. He could see the redness of its eyes disappear, until he realized he seemed to be looking into a dead rabbit's eye sockets. He drew back in shock. "I…" he stammered.

The shadow-rabbit lifted one paw, pointing towards the road. "That way," the rabbit said. "You have already lost the one you love the most right now."

"She might be alive…"

"…you've lost her."

The rabbit disappeared, for real this time, leaving him alone with his muddled thoughts and a dull ache in his chest.

It was then that the sound of a horn blasted through the air.

***

Dewdrops had been standing by the edge of the road, sniffing the ground for any signs of where Lang-it had headed, when he saw Seed dash by. He lifted his head, dark nose wide open with curiosity, and stared in shock as Seed stopped, limp and white-eyed, in the middle of the road.

"What in Frith's jolly old name…?" he asked, bracing his back legs. He knew Seed had been fascinated by the road earlier on but he'd told him before that to stay within it was to step at death's door. And what sane rabbit would tempt danger?

"Hey, you! Do you want to die?" he called aloud. "Seed! Seed!"

He stood rooted to his position, unwilling to move forward and shake the young Chief out of his trance. Why risk it? He began to turn back, meaning to find help, when he heard a horn in the distance.

"Frith, not now…" he muttered, looking back to where Seed sat still in a daze. "Move, Seed! Get out of there!"

Inlé hung over their heads.

In the bleakness of the situation Dewdrops suddenly found his feet flying, his heart pounding, his eyes intent only to Seed as he dashed over to where the rabbit was and began to nudge him. "Wake up!"

Light poured in on the road.

"Wake up!" he cried as he began to grow _tharn_.

The horn's sound grew louder.

"…Frith…"

The heavy truck bore down on them, Primrose-rah and Seed's fate now drowned in the irony of its bright headlights.

***

_ Oh Frith, the pain…_

Hot, searing, sticky…

_ Take away the pain…_

Muscles and bone and blood…

_ It hurts…_

Sounds. Almost a muffled growling against his throbbing ears. He twitched slightly at this and felt the pain expand into his entire body.

He breathed deep, raggedly, and blinked. The world was dark. Dark and blurry. And the pain. _Go away, pain…take me Frith…it hurts…_ He cringed as another surge went through his body. _…it hurts…_

He began to feel dizzy and was about to give in to the darkness that kept pressing onto him, but then he felt the oddly familiar sensation of something wet and cool against his skin. Across his face. Over his closed eyes. The tinge of saliva was stagnant and he knew someone was licking him. The sensation in his nerves was oddly soothing, seemingly familiar…

"…you'll be okay…"

He could barely make out the words, but he was suddenly aware of the talker. Useth's pale-furred face appeared in the dim light, close to his. He twitched, wanting to thank her, but seemingly finding he could not talk.

"…don't move…"

He tried to.

"…just stay down…"

Unable to do even that, his strength all but gone, he relaxed, sight dimming completely. But before he completely lost consciousness he felt the stiffened coldness of a body beside him.

***

"Are you awake?"

He was…

No, he wasn't…

There was light in his eyes and drumming in his ears, and save for the rise and fall of his chest and the twitch of his eyelids, he could barely move. He breathed in deep and winced as the pain shot throughout his body. First that, then a tingling sensation in his muscles that didn't seem to be too much of a bother until he realized he was paralyzed, again…

The light in his eyes gave way to the customary darkness of a burrow. For a moment he was relieved, until he saw the usual red eyes that had haunted him in his dreams and beyond. "Go…g-go…" he stammered, his voice coming out barely as a whisper. "L-lea…"

"Seed."

The eyes disappeared, leaving him awake and fully aware of Useth's presence. The reality of the situation and the familiarity she brought was enough to calm him down. Raising one paw weakly, he groped about in the dark until he touched one of hers. "Is—Useth…y-you?" he coughed, pressing against her paw.

"It's me," she said. He felt a nose briefly pass over his scarred ear.

"Wh-wha…" He fumbled over his words, his brain too scrambled, his body too weak. Useth seemed to understand whatever it was he was trying to say, however, and replied.

"It's a _hrududu_. You've been run over. You could've died." Useth nudged his ear again. "If it weren't for Dewdrops you could've. Thanks to him you're alive."

"D-dew…"

"Shhh. Don't try to speak." She said this in a low voice, almost crooning. "Rest. Sleep. Put off worry till you're better. I'll take care of everything for the moment. Shhh…"

He waved a paw to protest, then cringed again as he remembered his pain. Grumbling in acknowledgement, he relaxed back into unconsciousness; his last senses were engulfed with Useth's scent as she lay beside him and urged him to sleep.

***

It took Seed a full day to recover into his proper state of mind. When he did wake up he found Useth once more, in deep sleep curled up in a ball not far from him. His first thought was to wake her up, then decided against it. Instead he lifted his head to inspect himself.

The source of his pain, he saw, was from his right hind leg. It was covered in clotted blood—although it was clean—and the bone seemed to have snapped inside. Other than his leg injury and a few bruises by his shoulders and head, he was unharmed.

_ But I'll be lame,_ he realized, wincing in pain when he accidentally moved his haunch. He would be, wouldn't he? He blinked. In most warrens, they said, a disabled Chief was as useful as a one-week-old for an Owsla, and was often disposed of. He shook his head. No, it can't be in his warren. He'd still be accepted, right?

After all, they go by different rules here.

His mind wandered off.

Would anyone want him now…?

…Haini…

At the mere thought of the doe, he remembered Lang-it.

"Useth!"

He jerked his head sharply towards her form and saw her eyes twitch. "Seed…" Useth muttered, half-asleep. She propped herself up with her front paws and unsteadily tried to gaze at him. "Seed," she repeated. "You're awake."

"Where's Lang-it?" he asked.

Useth licked her nose. "We haven't found her. The foxes crossed a stream. We lost the scent there."

"C-can't you try harder…?"

"We have, Seed. But you know…we can't spare anymore rabbits. The more we have of them up there the more danger we're in." She sniffed. "A couple got snatched by _hombil_ of some sort. And we need as much trackers as we can right now."

Seed furrowed his brows. "W-what do you mean by that…?"

"The _hrududu_," Useth replied. She licked her nose again and Seed could smell the tension rising within her. "Dewdrops. I don't know what you were doing in the middle of that road but you damn well ought to have an explanation for that, because when the _hrududu_ bore down on you Dewdrops came and shoved you away from it. At least, enough that you didn't get crushed. Your leg did, but that's not important really…"

"W-what is?" He asked, even though he knew the answer.

"Dewdrops took your place."

"He…?"

"He's dead now."

"Dewdrops," he said simply. He looked down on his forelegs, curled in tight fists in front of his chest. "H-how…what do we do now? O-only Dewdrops c-could figure out…the way."

Useth gave a deep sigh. "Other trackers, I guess."

"T-they're not a-as good…"

"No they're not." Useth sighed again. "What were you doing in the middle of the road, Seed? You knew enough not to do that. You were shaking."

He did not remove his downwards gaze. "I-I can't tell…"

"What do you mean?"

"Y-you wouldn't…understand."

Useth was silent for a few moments. Then she replied, simply, "I'd try."

He shook his head. "N-no…I mean…thanks and all but this is…sort of…" He sighed, shoulders slumping back. "You won't understand," he repeated, finding that was all there was. If even Lang-it couldn't, who else would?

"You could always tell me," she said, though he thought it was in a resigning sort of way. "It's not like I'd laugh."

"M-maybe some day," he replied.

"All right." He heard her stand and approach him, pausing for a moment as if deciding on something, then drawing back again. "You should rest. Don't know how long till you're fit enough to travel, but rest for now. We'll talk later."

"Okay." He lowered his head on his forepaws and closed his eyes.

But before Useth could completely walk away, he looked up again. "Hey—Useth?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

"No problem. I'm your Captain of Owsla, you know."

He waited until he could no longer feel her presence before closing his eyes once more. Lang-it was gone—to make it worse, Dewdrops was, too, and that would probably mean the rest of their deaths as well. The depression began to sink in, but he shrugged it off as exhaustion and went back to sleep.

***

And he who was once Captain of Owsla lay in shelter beneath a leafless tree some distance away from the main camp, licking wounds he had received from bold rabbits willing to take on him now that his rank was diminished into nothingness. His mind was void of thoughts—it was the only thing he could do, difficult as it was, to prevent his rage from taking over his entire being. If he didn't he might have gone mad and killed every rabbit in sight.

So it was that left Quillwort in this dejected state, seemingly a mouse trapped in his hole as the cats loitered about outside, waiting for death to come by claws or by the perils of solitude. Out of his mind and unfeeling, he did not notice it when Elderberry slinked in front of him and called his name aloud several times. The rabbit had to nudge him by the shoulder for him to break out of his trance.

When he did, he stared at Elderberry as if in shock, a stare which gradually turned into one of annoyance, furrowing his eyebrows in an attempt to rebuke the rabbit without words. "Bother me now, won't you?" he found himself saying, lips half-curled in a silent snarl. "What do you want?"

Elderberry looked around, then crouched in front of him. "I don't know what overcame Seed when he removed you and I don't care. What news have you heard from the warren, lately?"

Quillwort's lips relaxed, but he held his sharp look intact. "Other than the usual 'the Inlé are you bloody bastard still doing here'? Nothing else."

"I'd have expected more from you."

"Timothy's dead and I'm no longer Captain." He raised his voice. "You think I'd still _care_?"

"You should. Because Dewdrops is dead."

It hit him hard, and he asked, unsure, "W-what did you just say?"

"Dewdrops is jolly old dead."

"I wouldn't make fun of him if he were."

"I'm being sarcastic. You know how bad this is?" At his refusal to answer, Elderberry slashed his claws across the empty air with impatience. "Death! To us! I'm the bloody Patrol Captain and _I_ know that none of my rabbits are as good as he is!"

"How in Inlé did it happen?"

"For some reason Seed found it funny to sit in the middle of the road and get run over by one of those big, hulking _hrududil_—the type Bugle said man would load _flay-rah _in to bring over somewhere?"

He nodded, then checked Elderberry's words. "Seed's dead?"

"Not quite. He merely got away with something like a leg injury. But that isn't important, because Dewdrops saved him. The _Quieflainer _got ran over instead of him."

"So Dewdrops is dead," Quillwort concluded, licking his lips.

"Aye."

He licked his lips again. "Why would it matter to me?" He turned his head towards the direction where the camp lay. "I'm an outcast. They kick me when my back is turned and bite me when I'm down. Someday they'll point me to their kittens and say, 'Be good or you'll turn into him.'" He turned his hardened face back to Elderberry. "Why tell me?"

"Because it was Seed's fault," Elderberry said, shuffling his paws. "Because he's weak, and his weakness becomes ours if it goes on any longer. Without Dewdrops we will have a difficult time—with Seed at our head we are doomed." The rabbit stamped a leg. "Do you know how many trackers Useth had out there in full view of the _elil_, searching for his damned sister?"

"What happened to Lang-it?"

"Why the Inlé should I care?" he yelled. "This can't go on any longer! You! You're the warren's only salvation, the way I see it!" Suddenly, Elderberry pushed closer to him so that they were face to face. "Kill Seed—kill Seed and Primrose and resume your position at the head of this warren! Chief Quillwort! Who else is more qualified to lead us into green fields?"

"Who else is _least_ qualified?" Quillwort replied, keeping his voice as calm as he could. "Or have you forgotten, Elderberry, what Seed had turned me into?"

"A vagabond? Listen to the duck who told the magpie that he wasn't a bird. Yet he could not only fly, he could also _swim_. You have encountered rabbits who hate you—even I could see that…" He indicated the small wounds that covered Quillwort's back. "But does that mean the _entire_ warren hates you? Think—if it did, you wouldn't be able to come less than a mile away from it!"

Elderberry's words had struck him completely and now he could only stare at the rabbit with confusion and shock. After some time, he managed to say, in a voice barely a pitch higher than a whisper, "Seed…Seed is Timothy's son."

"He is. All the more reason to save him from humiliation." Elderberry shook his head. "You have to…"

"I can't kill him. I'd be betraying my Chief."

"Your Chief is dead and your ideals are about to destroy what he had sought to protect." The rabbit turned his head, back to the camp. "There. Go, Quillwort-rah. Your people awaits you."

Elderberry was disappointed when Quillwort slumped back and down, refusing to do anything else, his eyes staring into empty space. He shook his head and walked away.

But whatever it was Elderberry had planned to do by their conversation, it had taken its toll, and that evening, amongst the customary prayers that rabbits were wont to say came one that cried, "Take me Frith, before I lose my loyalties…"


	24. 

** 24**

For a week, the rabbits were forced to stay where they were, hiding, eating food only when the opportunity came. Many had seriously began to doubt of Seed's existence, saying he'd died and that someone or another had a big plan in mind for them, but before anyone could take any action Seed appeared one day, limping and in bad shape, but otherwise alive. It was with their leader in this state that the rabbits moved on.

***

"N-no sign of Lang-it yet, huh?" Seed asked, an hour into moving. It was a stupid question. He knew what the answer was, so he wasn't at all surprised when Useth looked up from the dandelion leaf she'd been having and said,

"We aren't looking for her. We can't spare anymore patrols, Seed. Elderberry has them far and wide, scouting for danger, and the rest are tracking the way for us." She flicked her ears. "I'm sorry." She paused. "Besides. You know a fox couldn't have done anymore but kill her."

"I guess…" he replied, forcing himself to limp forward again. "T-that's how she's s-s-supposed to go. Nothing to prevent t-that."

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged, ignoring her question as he turned to meet up with an oncoming rabbit that he recognized as Carrot. Carrot strode forward and touched noses with him before saying, "There's a farm ahead of us, sir. That's about that…what do we do?"

He turned to Useth, who flicked her ears and replied, without waiting for him to say anything, "What else? We avoid it. There's no way in Inlé we'd want to go into a farm—there's man about, you know."

He was about to agree with her when he remembered something. "Man and f-food," he told her. "T-t-the rabbits…they'd appreciate s-something to eat."

"What would be in a man's garden in late autumn?" Useth asked, shaking her head. "Whatever there is won't be worth our time."

Seed lifted one paw. "W-we can just l-look—you know, s-sort of pass by c-close and see if there'd be a-anything."

He waited, watching Useth and Carrot pass each other doubtful glances. "I suppose that if we do find some food we'd be well off," Useth began. Then she shook her head. "Ugh. The risk is way too much, Seed. Tell him, Carrot."

He turned to Carrot, who seemed to have lost his voice. "I—I mean…well…sir…it's like—well…the thing is—you know…" Seed lifted his brows. Apparently, Carrot was having two minds as to what to say, and at this rate, he'll end up saying nothing at all. 

"It's…up to you…" Carrot concluded, confirming his suspicions.

"I guess there's two ways to this," Useth said, shaking her head. "Well, do you really want to risk it?"

"T-they would love the f_-flay-rah_…" he muttered.

"Provided there is some."

"They w-would love it…" he repeated.

She sighed. "You're the Chief."

"So we'll go to the farm, sir?" Carrot asked, seemingly sensing that whatever argument the two had just had was over.

"C-close to it…see if there's any _flay_ to get…" Seed answered.

"Affirmative. Captain?" Carrot turned to Useth.

"Whatever," came her dry remark.

"U-Useth…as I said…" Seed began, hoping he could fully change her mind. But she flicked her ears backwards and started to nibble on the dandelion once more.

"I said _whatever_," Useth said, her mouth full of dandelion.

Trying hard to conceal the smirk in his face, Seed hopped towards her and began to feed from the same plant she was eating on. Carrot, watching them, thought this as the signal to go and report to the rest of the rabbits, and with a gentle, "I'm off now," he left, shaking his head with amazement at the way Seed and Useth got along.

***

_ "…tell Lang-it and Seed I love them…"_

_ "…with Seed at our head we are doomed…"_

_ "Kill Seed…resume your position at the head of the warren!"_

Quillwort lifted his head to stare at the cloudless sky. "I can't kill him," he said below his breath, repeating the same words he had told Elderberry. "I'd be betraying Timothy…"

He had trod against a pebble without noticing it. As he cursed aloud, running his tongue over his bruised paw, he heard what seemed like a distressed squeal. He froze, ears standing tall as he surveyed the area, trying to fathom what it was that was wrong…

His muscles gradually relaxed after a moment or so. Maybe the squeal just came from kittens too rowdy with themselves. He was just beginning to hop on again when there, across the air, tore the sounds of fearsome barking.

"What's wrong here?" he called out aloud, spotting a rabbit hiding for cover beneath the tangled bushes. When the rabbit would not reply, he crouched low and touched the rabbit's face with his claws. The rabbit was shivering uncontrollably. "What's wrong here?" he repeated, his voice trying its best to remain calm.

"The…it's—dog…d-dog…" the rabbit miserably replied. It looked around for a moment, fearful, and then clutched tightly on his paw. "P-please…d-don't let it…k-kill me…it got my doe…"

"Where is it?" Quillwort asked, removing the rabbit from his foreleg. "Answer me!"

"T-the m-main g-group…oh Frith, I d-don't want to die yet!"

"Stay here. I'll be back for you." He nudged the rabbit with his nose. When he saw that it had calmed down, he withdrew and headed straight for the others.

***

It was a bloodbath when Quillwort arrived at the heart of the main group. Rabbits had gone crazy, running to and fro with no particular direction in mind, scrambling over each other and the dead, bloody bodies that marked the ground like flies over a garbage heap. In the midst of all the chaos stood a dog, ripping apart several rabbits that lay by its foot, its eyes hazed and clouded with bloodlust, drool emaciating from its fearsome jowls.

He would have stared on in shock, mouth agape, had his Owsla instincts not kicked in quick. Roaring aloud, he tore himself towards the nearest rabbit, crying, "You there! I don't the Inlé care who you are, but I want you to help me gather those rabbits together and lead them out of here! Yes, you! And you as well! And you! If you all want to live, you'd better do as I say!" His voice commanded order and the rabbits, snapping out of their _tharn_ states, began to follow his instructions, yelling out loud within the crowds and beyond the dog's barking.

For a while, there seemed to be no improvement, but as Quillwort had foreseen it, the rabbits began to obey the orders, hopping off in a quick but calmed manner while the dog remained in the middle, crunching on bones, giving no signs that it would run and take off after the rest. Quillwort licked his lips and followed the rest as they went into the woods and into safety.

He arrived, watching the panting rabbits with blazing eyes. A great many had been injured during the dog's first attack, and there where those with deep gashes across their chests and shoulders and looked as if they wouldn't survive the night. He shook his head. "What in Frith's name happened back there?" he asked, but the rabbits have not yet recovered fully to answer his questions.

He cursed and continued to walk on, and it was then that he stopped, looking straight at one rabbit with his ears standing straight. It was Seed. He was unhurt, but he sat beside a tree trunk, panting and just out of _tharn_. His eyes were as wide as a kitten's when it first sees the world.

"Don't tell me. It was your fault, wasn't it?" he asked.

Seed did not reply.

"Wasn't it?" he yelled, louder, pushing his face into the other's so that their scents nearly mingled—anger and fear at one blow.

He felt something nudge his cheek and turned to see Useth staring at him. "Quillwort, leave him be," she said carefully.

Quillwort shook his head. "I'm trying to—Frith, I'm trying to, but do you have any idea how many rabbits have been killed out there? And would have been killed?" He turned to Seed. "Well, _do _you?"

"Seed was just trying to help—so we grazed close to the farm a little bit to see if we could get some _flay-rah_ for the rabbits. Quillwort…" Useth nudged him again, a little roughly. "Leave him alone. It was a good idea gone wrong."

"Aye, it was a good idea gone wrong," Quillwort replied. "Now you're defending him, lass, which is good, except that you're both young and your eyes are as clouded as the sky on a rainy day." He flicked his ears. "Seed. Death is inevitable, but you're just bringing it closer to us each day."

His words brought a gasp about the rabbits, and Seed, seemingly snapping out of a trance, turned to him and asked, "W-what do you mean?"

"Don't play games with me," he said in a louder voice. "It was your fault that Dewdrops is dead—the one rabbit that would have brought us instant salvation from this nomadic insanity. And now it is your fault that _hrair_—many—rabbits out there are dead, more to die soon, and a dog in our trail."

"I-I…I didn't mean…"

"Of _course_ you didn't mean it! But you could have at least thought of the consequences of your actions! You'll bring death to us all!" He cursed aloud, turning to the rest of the rabbits, and at that moment he saw Elderberry emerging from the bushes. Flanking him were Owsla officers, most of them patrollers—which were clearly the most plentiful in the Owsla. From the distinct look in Elderberry's face and the gut feeling inside he knew that he had no other choice.

"My loyalties," he said slowly, turning back to Seed. "I thought they lay with your father and to his heir. But your actions…" He shook his head. "Your actions have proven me wrong."

"Q-Quillwort…" Seed began.

He cut him off quick. "Run."

"W-what do you mean?" The young Chief gazed at the rabbits around him. From the look in his eyes Quillwort knew that _he_ knew what was going on. "Q-Quillwort…"

"Run," he repeated. "Go. Anywhere. Run."

Seed watched him with wide open eyes.

"My loyalty lies with my people," he said, moving forward and raising one paw. His claws seemed to shine with their own light. "All along, it is with them, and it my duty to remove what it is that is hurting them. And what is hurting them right now—is you."

"Stop this nonsense, Quillwort!" a voice cried from the crowd. Quillwort turned to see Primrose walking towards them. His bulk and appearance reminded him of Timothy, and for a moment he thought he was, and was shamed, but that was it. He lifted his lips and gave off a deep snarl.

"Primrose. I thought you would do this," he said.

"You are being hasty. Stop this at once and let us think this over!" Primrose cried.

He shook his head. "I already have. And my decisions have been made." He gave Elderberry a quick look. "Kill him, Captain of Owsla."

Pleasure seemingly rising within Elderberry's aged features, he drew his claws and leaped onto Primrose. Several of his Owsla attacked with him.

"No, Primrose!"

"Now, Seed," he said, looking towards the rabbit. "When I told you to run, I meant it. Go. Go, because I will send my Owsla after you and they will kill you the same way your actions killed their friends and family, they will kill you unless you escape them. Go!"

Two officers sprang up from nowhere and began to give chase.

Scrambling to his feet, Seed limped away.

It wasn't long before the rabbit stumbled, leaving the two officers an easy game to prey on. He bit his lip as he watched them draw nearer. Soon, it would be over. Soon, there would be no turning back, and he would have to pray each day asking for Timothy to forgive him.

_ Forgive me for killing your son_.

But then, he heard a loud shriek, and saw a lightened-brown blur that flew towards the two officers. He blinked and saw it was Useth, rising to defend Seed, and that moment he felt a shiver running down his spine.

…that was him…

…if Seed was Timothy, that would be him…

…fighting for his Chief even when everything else had turned against him.

"Run, Seed!" Useth cried as she pushed the officers away, knowing that a head-on battle would only result in her death. "Run!" Seed obeyed and she began to drive the officers off with quick bites and curses.

Quillwort hopped forward, watching the scene with laid-back ears.

When Seed seemed to be a good distance off Useth withdrew, as quick as she had attacked, leaving the officers to run after her dethroned Chief.

"Stop!" Quillwort cried to the two officers before they rose to give chase once more. He hopped to them and shook his head, in the meantime watching the two small figures disappear into the fields in the distance. "Let them go," he said, to the officers' disbelieving eyes.

"But sir…"

"I'm Chief now, and I say, let them go." He sighed. "They're as good as dead out there anyway."

Elderberry approached him, licking blood off the top of his nose. "So you finally caved in," the rabbit said.

Quillwort shook his head. "I didn't want to, but he gave me no other choice."

"Yes." Elderberry approached him and nudged his lower chin. Realizing this as the action one would do to his superior at times when he needed to know he was one, he lifted his head higher and allowed Elderberry to lick his jaw.

Elderberry then withdrew and asked, "What do we do now?"

"Gather all the survivors and anyone who's run off and disappeared. Then we'll find a safe spot before resuming our travels." He turned his eyes towards the east. "The hills. We will go there. That is where our future lies."

With heavy hearts, the rabbits resumed to their tasks.


	25. 

** 25**

The wailing began as if from a dream, starting low and rising, refusing to leave her already clouded mind so that she was forced to open her eyes in order to end it. To her surprise, it was no dream. The wail had come from the other end of the burrow.

She flicked her ears and burrowed her muzzle over one paw, intending to ignore it. Her eyelids were drowsy, and whatever it was that was bothering Seed didn't seem too drastic and could probably wait until morning. Slowly, she began to sink back into sleep, her mind on the verge of falling into a dream…

Chaos.

Black rabbits slashing each other's throats.

Black rabbits dancing in the moonlight.

A black rabbit with red eyes staring at her with a look that was akin to compassion. For one brief moment she stared back at it, warmth instead of fear flooding her mind, before it disappeared into the thick, foggy air…

The wailing began again.

She snapped awake once more and this time decided she would see what was wrong. She rose, still half-asleep, and stumbled towards where Seed lay. The area around him was thick with the scent of fear. She wrinkled her nose as she approached him.

"Seed?"

There was no reply, and feeling a bit impatient, she pushed her nose into his rump. He was fast asleep. She snorted and tried doing it again, but he would not stir.

She decided to leave him behind for her own warm space when he began to kick at the air, his cries coming out once more, but this time subtler, almost a whimper. She flicked her ears up and approached him around the head, eyes struggling to gain better sight in the almost pitch-black darkness.

She couldn't see anything except the movement of his hind legs and the twitching of his entire body. "Seed," she said yet again, hoping he would wake up. He seemed to be in a great deal of discomfort. She touched his forehead with her nose and gave him a quick lick. "Wake up."

"…it…"

"What did you say?"

"…Lang-it…run…"

She could see he wasn't talking to her, merely mumbling in his sleep. She tried to wake him up yet again, to no avail.

"…run…"

"Seed, you have got to wake up."

"Primrose, they'll—they'll kill you…"

"Seed—Seed, it's just a dream." She whispered it against his ear, gently, almost lovingly.

"Dammit! No, no, no…not there…not there…that's the Black Rabbit…he'll kill you…no, mother, I'm not the Black Rabbit…I'm not—n-not…"

She looked around for a moment then dropped down beside him, nose on one of his paws. He continued to twitch about, his dream seemingly drawing him in closer and closer. Useth, finding at a loss on what to do, laid her head on his shoulder and began to hum a lullaby her mother used to sing when they were kittens.

_ Sleep, little one,_

_ Dreams are not reality…_

_ Hear my heart beating against your own sweet head._

_ Sleep beneath the sun,_

_ Fears are not for eternity…_

_ Let Frith protect you dear, sleep well beneath His stead._

***

"Useth?"

"Gimme a minute…" She stretched her forelegs and went back to sleep, shrugging away at the voice. It was much too warm and comfortable to move.

After a while, it came again. "Useth?"

"I said a minute…"

"It's passed."

She opened one eye to see Seed staring at her. For a moment she wondered how she could see his face so clearly, but realizing that it was morning and the sunlight had begun to stream from the entrance, she turned to wondering how it was that he was so close. "G-good morning," Seed said, before she could think further.

She realized where the strange warmth in her sleep had come from. Her front paws were laid across his shoulder, and she saw that it took all his effort to look at her without having to rise from his position. Coughing for a moment, she removed them, getting the upper part of her body off him, sat back, and began to wash her face.

"I…I had a real bad night," Seed said, trying to break the silence barrier. He sat up, as she had, and stretched his weary body. "I t-think…it was sort of a dream…"

"It was," she said, barely looking up from her business. "You wouldn't wake up."

From the corner of her eyes, she saw him look at her. "S-see…i-it seemed real…" he said, shrugging. "I…I thought it wouldn't end…I was in a pit, and the…there were dead rabbits…t-trying to get at me. D-dad was there."

He paused, then continued. "T-then I heard s-someone singing, and it all ended…"

She finished combing one of her ears with a forepaw and turned to him. "H-have you ever had a nightmare like that?" he asked, before she could say anything. "I m-mean…kind of like real, and sort of…y-you can't get out of it…"

"Of course I have," she replied.

"It's f-frightening…you don't know…" He broke off, searching for words that weren't there.

"Yes, but the thing is, whenever something like that happens to me…I know it's a dream, so I always wake out of it, and it never…barely…sometimes it scares me but…" She shrugged. "I know it's a dream and it can't hurt me. It's not real. It _can't_."

"They say dreams foresee the future…" Seed said. "I-it might…"

"I don't see how I could possibly turn into a flying _lendri_."

He stared at her, in shock for a moment, then said, "That's not really much of a nightmare…"

"Seed, you have _no_ idea how scary it was." She stopped, and thought for a moment. "Although it couldn't be as scary as the dream I had where Oryctol and Appletree had babies."

He flinched.

"Believe me, there couldn't be any bossier kittens." She laughed at the memory. "They were all crazy and bouncing around of sorts while Oryctol and Appletree were being mushy—er, they went away…and stuff…" She stopped for a moment. "Their conversation I think, went like, 'Oh my cute widdle Apple-blossom…'" She didn't finish as she broke off into a fit, giggling.

He laughed with her for a while and then stopped. Noticing this and the look of regret on his face, she asked, "What's the matter?"

"I'm…"

He looked towards where the sunlight was streaming in full-blast. "I'm sorry. S-see, you know—if it wasn't for me you'd still be in Appletree's Owsla, or an Owsla somewhere else. N-now you're stuck here with me." He flicked his ears backwards. "I-I'm really sorry."

"It's okay," she said, although it was the first time she'd thought of it that way, since their exile the evening before.

He shrugged. "Y-you didn't have to follow…help…me, you know. Q-Q-Quillwort wouldn't have you killed. He…he may have even kept you in the Owsla. H-he's not the kind of rabbit…to waste good officers…"

She shook her head. "I chose to do it." _Why_? The thought hit her, but before she could send any signs of it to Seed, she quickly added, "So, are you feeling better?"

"I-I still feel sick."

"From last night, you might've had a fever."

"Yes…"

"Go back to sleep. I'll have a look around for a bit."

"Okay."

She stood to her feet and stretched her entire body. "Just don't go out and if you see _elil_…I don't think you will before I do, anyway. See you."

Before she'd hopped out of the hole, he called back after her. "U-Useth?"

"Yes?"

"T-thanks. A-again. Again."

She shrugged her shoulders and walked out.

***

He watched her leave. When he was certain she was gone, he lowered his head. That was it, right? It was all over. He had nothing left. Not his family, not his sister, and more importantly, not his warren. He was a total failure. Everyone had turned against him now.

"A failure," he breathed. He shut his eyes and cursed. "_Hraka. Hraka_!" His voice lowered into a hushed whisper as he continued to curse. What in Inlé was he supposed to do now? There was nothing he could do right, and now he's failed in everything—there was nothing left to do but live…

…and that was the one thing in the world he didn't want to do.

He lifted his head and turned his attention towards a rock. It was rough around the edges, and was the one Useth bruised herself on yesterday while digging the burrow. He half-crawled towards it and sniffed. It was just the right thing to end his misery.

Death…

…such a welcome thing. It was better this way, wasn't it? He lifted his head high. After all, if he was dead he wouldn't bring death to anyone else. The world was better off without him, as far as he was concerned.

He shut his eyes and prepared to smash his own head against the rock.

But before he could do that, his legs gave way and he fell down, shivering.

"Hraka," he muttered. "My one salvation and…"

And he was too damn afraid to do it.

He curled up in a foetal position as he broke down.

***

Useth stopped by an oak tree not far from the burrow in order to gather her bearings. Yesterday morning, when they had stumbled upon the dry bank, well away from path of the warren's trail, she hadn't had time to take the whole area into account—she and Seed had been too busy digging up the burrow. Now, she could see they were in a safe place—the grass was short enough that it could conceal no _ elil_, there were a good amount of trees to shelter from hawks, and the rest of the vegetation was sparse enough that you could see anything large enough to be a threat approaching.

She sighed and licked her front paws again, deciding on the next course of action. She could do a short patrol around the area still, just to see the kind of activity _elil_ would do here…if there had been some recently. She wasn't trained enough to do the kind of precise work someone like Dewdrops could, interpreting landscape signs and smells so well he could've been a seer for all of that, but she could do a good job out of it…if she was up to the task.

And from her recent conversation with Seed, it seemed she wasn't.

She sighed again, looking back at the small entrance leading to their hole. He was right. Why in Frith and Inlé's names did she follow him all the way out here? Quillwort _would_ have kept her, or sent her back to Inléthlay for all of that, or some other warren. Whatever way he chose, she would've still found a way to be in the Owsla. Seed wasn't _her_ responsibility. It's not like she didn't try to warn him of his actions. It's not like she's supposed to care.

The Owsla. That was here prime directive, wasn't it? Now it was out of her reach. She sighed for the third time and began to hop off, going with her thought of patrolling. At least it might get the matter out of her mind for a bit.

***

She hadn't really gone far, stopping by a wedge of rock that smelled strongly of _ homba_ and set off to sniffing it. It wasn't fresh and she'd just withdrawn her head, a little relieved, when she heard a voice behind her.

"Who'st dost thou be?"

She whirled around, prepared for the worst. The past events had build up tension within her and she was ready to fight to the death if the situation required it. "Who are _you_?" she asked, growling, as she surveyed the speaker with narrowed eyes.

It was a rabbit, and not one from any warren she knew…the lapine the rabbit spoke was strange enough, and so was its accent. "Thou art an outsider…" the rabbit muttered. "If thou knowst what's good for thee, thou shall leave, and quick."

She huffed through her nose. "Am I trespassing or something?" she asked.

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

"Ugh, just great," Useth muttered. She kicked the air with one hind leg. "I'm really sorry," she said, turning back the way she had come from. Annoyed though she was, she knew that this was just a patrol from a hostile warren, a friendly one at that, and was only warning her of the dangers of straying too far into its warren's territory. "Thanks anyway," she said as she trotted off.

The stranger seemed to hold back for a moment, then went after her. As it drew nearer she smelt it as a buck and turned to look at him with laid-back ears. "Thou seemed to have come far," the buck said as he caught up with her. "I am amused…"

"_Amused_?"

"There are no warrens nearby. Nur-Lath's territory is huge and we keep other rabbits off it. Thou should have come far. Very few _hressil_ manage such things."

"_Hressil_?" she was going to ask, then stopped herself. This was a new country and by chance many of their words would be different. So instead she said, "You're right. And I was wondering if you could offer us some time in your warren."

"_Us_? There are more of thee, then?"

"Yes."

"My warren is very strict on such matters as these," he said. "Where dost thou and thy friends…"

"Friend."

"Yes, come from?"

She pursed her lips, wondering whether she should tell him, then thought there was no harm in doing so. If Quillwort had let them go it wasn't likely he was going to seek them out. "A warren southwest, far, far from here," she said. "We…got separated from the group…they were migrating. It was called Primrose-rah."

They'd reached the burrow and Useth had left him to get Seed. As she came back up, she saw a confused look on the rabbit's face. "Primrose-rah?" he asked, at the sight of her and Seed. "I think I've heard that name before…"

Seed and Useth passed each other a look. "I-it's a small hill," Seed finally said, turning to the buck. "H-h-hollowed. It…it was a pretty large warren. S-small territory. T-the…the strangest I've known, as far as its main warren is concerned, p-physically."

"Yes…yes!" The buck nodded. "I remember…yes. So thou sayest thou comes from it?"

Seed nodded.

"I can't let thee go off, then," he said. "I might be able to persuade my Chief to let thee stay."

"Permanently?" they both asked, a little too hopefully.

He smiled. "That is a might, so thou shouldn't raise thy hopes too high. However…" He passed Useth a look. "What is thy name, my lady? Thou looks like thou art an Owsla of some sorts."

"I'm Useth," she answered, a little taken aback. "I…I was in the Owsla…for a bit…"

"That's good, that shall do thee good." He nodded, turning to Seed. "And thy name?"

"S-Seed…"

"Yes, very well indeed. I am Anemone. Follow me. Shall we meet any other rabbits, hold back and let me talk to them."

***

In a short while, Useth and Seed had come to know much of Anemone and his warren. Apparently, it was quite small, but its territory ranged far and wide, larger than any warren either of two had known. It was obsessed with improving its Owsla and consequently that was what it was known for, to those who've seen it and survived. Useth, with some size in her, for a doe, and experience, might be able to join in, so Anemone said. He didn't say anything too much about Seed, although he was polite and kind just as well to the rabbit, and Useth had to reassure him that it was all because of his leg. "You're not really a small buck," she said. "You're taller than me now…you used to be shorter, you know…that means you'll grow up quick and fast. Only small bucks have nil chances, unless they were smart or the Owsla was…well, stupid."

That did work, or so she thought, but in any case, by sundown they had arrived at the borders of the main warren itself. At first glance, it didn't seem like a warren. There was no sign of a hole anywhere. But as they hopped on further, Useth could see that the ground ended into a sort of chasm, extending several meters downward, but starting up again on the other side a few yards later. Below were the signs of warren life…a few holes, and several rabbits talking amongst themselves on the surface. 

"That's where our holes are," Anemone explained. "But we usually feed on the other side of this gap. Thou should realize there's a copse covering most of the area there, so there's cover from humans, which is our main concern here. _ Elil_ isn't plentiful save for them. We are very much afraid that they should discover our warren and eradicate us before we could fight back, thus the concealment."

He shrugged. "In any case, thou shouldn't stray too far down the edge, Useth. The entrance of the warren is this way. Any rabbit that dost come down there is perceived as an intruder and attacked, and I darest say it has worked more than once."

He went towards the nearest tree, doubling back the way they came from, and squeezed himself tight into a hole between the roots. Useth looked at Seed as he asked her, "S-should we trust him?"

"We've gone this far," she said.

"I-I'll go first, then," Seed told her. He took a deep breath and followed Anemone.

Useth waited a while before doing the same thing.

They reached the edge of a tunnel, dug below the tree. It was quite large to their tastes…not as large as the escape run that Aspen had dug back in Primrose-rah, but still quite big. Though a squeeze tight, Useth and Seed could stand almost side-by-side, and this they did, crouching and taking ease from each other's presence as they watched Anemone converse with two large rabbits at the end of the run, in what appeared to be a burrow.

"D-do you think this will work?" Seed asked, looking up at Useth.

She shrugged. "Who knows? But what else can we do?"

"J-just my point."

She smiled and he shook his head. "B-beautiful warren, though."

"Yes. Here he comes."

Anemone poked his head out of the burrow and sniffed. "Thou art getting comfortable? These two here have decided to let thee in and there are much more roomier burrows in the main warren itself. Come."

They looked at each other, stood up, and followed Anemone into the burrow.

Useth tried to ignore the gaze of the two guards as she ventured into another run connected through the burrow itself. They made their way down, passing by many burrows that seemed to contain Owsla of some sort, from the way their inhabitants, poking their heads out to watch them, looked. The run became very cramped in the end until it was as narrow as most, so that the three had to travel in a line, Anemone at the front, Useth at the end, looking back her shoulder every now and then to see a rabbit ever so often gazing at them with distrust and suspicion.

"Your warren doesn't seem to receive visitors often," Useth remarked.

"Thou art right. Most patrols would drive thee away, and it is a rare occasion that anyone would find a reason to bring _hressil_ here. Thou should not worry, though, as I seem to have everything under control."

"Seem…" Useth remarked.

Anemone replied with a laugh.

The dark run finally gave way to light, and before Useth had time to blink, they were in the surface once more, in the ground below the chasm. She breathed in deep, before noticing Anemone had broken off to talk to a rabbit. She sighed and scratched one ear before approaching Seed.

"What do you think, so far?" she asked.

He looked around, nose twitching, before bending down to take a sniff and a bite of the grass. He shook his head with distaste. "I-I can see why they don't f-feed here. The grass is too tough."

"My friends!" Anemone called. He bounded towards them. "I have made arrangements. Let us wait for the runner, so in the meantime, I shall tell thee the story of how this warren came to be…"

Useth quickly passed Seed a look. Friendly as Anemone was, they both shared the same feeling that he talked _too_ much.

But it wasn't long before the runner arrived…Anemone had barely begun his story. "The Chief shall see thee past fu-Inlé tonight," the runner said. "He says to give thy visitors proper hospitality, to feed them and house them in thy own burrow, until he can attend to thee."

"Thank thee."

_ In other words_, Useth thought dryly, h_e wants Anemone to keep us under constant watch_.

She turned to Seed and could tell he was thinking the same. Neither of them was _ that_ ignorant of high-ranking talk.

"That is good news, I suppose," Anemone said. He beckoned to them. "Come. I'll show thee my favourite _sirfai_ grounds. And by the way, have I mentioned this? I welcome thee to Nur-Lath, _Ui Nahr Sopath Ui Rangil_."


	26. The Black Rabbit's Blessing

** Part 4: The Black Rabbit's Blessing**

** 26**

_ Safe._

_ Protected._

_ Loved._

_ …in this world, only love matters. Everything else is false._

_ But if the stars had shone on me that night, why then had they never shone again?_

"So, ye'r awake."

The voice jolted her up with a start. She looked around the darkness, suddenly aware of her throbbing headache, but that she did not mind. Her attention was focused on the darker silhouette of a rabbit that crouched by the entrance.

"Who are you?" she asked. "W-where am I?"

"Dinnae' get ye'rself worked up, lassie." The rabbit stood and began to groom a paw. "I've made a mind tae dinnae get ye'rself upset."

"Answer my question first," she haughtily replied, stepping nearer to the rabbit. It was a buck and smelt heavily of the outside world.

"Hm. Ye'r way feisty, aye? Very well. Mae name's Heather. Ye'r in mae burrow." He cocked one ear towards her then resumed his unabashed grooming.

She found her temper flaring at his conceited reply, unused to such things. Snorting through her nostrils, she pushed her face towards his. Up close, she could see his eyes blink with amazement. "What in Frith's name am I doing here, then?" she asked. "And don't act smart with me!"

A rough paw touched her on the shoulder and shoved her backwards. Growling, she dug her claws into the soil and snorted once more. "Hey…"

"Ye watch ye'r tongue, lassie. I dinnae hae the time tae go an' entertain ye', so I'll be leavin' ye here. But ye watch ye'r tongue." He huffed and walked away.

She crouched down, waiting until she could hear his footsteps die away. Then, she peered out of the burrow. The run adjoining it was rough—recently made, without the smooth, worn edges older tunnels would have. "Anyone there?" she asked aloud, before hopping out.

When no one replied she set to sniffing about. The rabbit she had earlier talked to had gone one way and thinking she didn't want to meet him again, she began to stride down the opposite direction.

Which was just as well, as it quickly lead to the surface. Suddenly glad to see Frith's familiar shine overhead, she hopped out and began to kick the ground for sheer joy. Thus, it was not so surprising that she was taken aback when she heard someone say behind her, "Havin' fun?"

She hadn't heard any rabbit come up to her. Feeling a bit cheated, she turned around and leaned against her hind quarters, fur bristling slightly. "What is it now?" she asked. "And don't you play any games with me…I know how to use these teeth!"

"Lassie, they're way too long tae be used f'er fightin'…ye should sharpen an' trim 'em a bit," the rabbit replied, nonchalantly.

"You've got nerve…" she growled.

"Ah, so ye noticed?"

She snorted, seeing as to how her conversation was getting her nowhere. Instead, she sat back. The rabbit seemed surprise at her sudden withdrawal.

"Look. I seem to have got lost from my warren. Can you _kindly_…" She paused for a moment. "Tell me where I am?"

"Would that help?" the rabbit asked.

"Answer my question!"

"Dinnae as if ye'r leavin'," the rabbit continued. "Ye dinnae be leavin', lassie. T'is certain ye dinnae be."

"What the Inlé do you mean by that?"

"Unless our leader lets ye…an' that dinnae seems tae be the case, since he seems tae be smitten with ye."

She coughed. "What?"

"T'is I who found ye lyin' some distance away from here. Almost dead, methinks at first. Sides, there was _homba _scent all 'round. _Methinks_ then, tae leave ye there, but ye was breathin' so I says I better drag ye'n tae a safer place." The rabbit touched her nose with a paw. "Ye'r lucky. I din' know any one tae survive a _homba _'afore. They was probably thinkin' ye were dead an' somethin' or another drove 'em off 'afore they could eat ye'. There was another rabbit nearby that dinnae be quite as whole as ye were, mind that. No wonder they could nae' touch ye. Even _elil_ get full."

"How long have I been here?" she asked.

"_That's_ the day a'fore yesterday, methinks. Then I brought Heather tae where ye where an' he said he'd bring ye here."

"And you're going to force me to stay?"

"What can I say, lass? He likes ye."

She huffed and kicked at the grass. "Like I would do that! Tell you what…thanks for helping me and all that…but I've really got to run."

"I dinnae be doin' that if I were ye, lassie."

"Hah!"

She turned and began to hop away.

She hadn't gotten far when a dark rabbit found its way in front of her. She stopped, regarding it with brazen eyes, before recognizing its scent as that of Heather's. In the light, she could see him clearly—dark, silken coat, a well-built appearance, and ears and eyes that seemed so focused…so direct…that it made her appear the nervous one. "Ye goin' somewhere?" he asked, suddenly flicking his ears backwards. His eyes squinted a bit and she could see the darker spectacles of fur that surrounded each one.

"Home," she spat out loud.

"Ye dinnae be goin' far."

"What makes you say that?"

"Ye'r too weak."

She flicked her ears and all of a sudden felt the weight of his words. When she had wakened, she had been so busy trying to figure out what it was that had exactly happened that she hadn't had time to consider her present state. Now that she did, she realized that she was hungry, and that there was little strength in her muscles. Under his scrutinizing gaze she found herself weakening, even as she struggled to stay in a dignified position.

"Let me go…" she finished, resigning herself to a half-crouch.

"Ye'r too beautiful tae waste on another warren." He hopped forward and pushed her slightly with his nose.

Ignoring the fact that he had just paid her a compliment, she swatted him with a well-aimed paw. "And you're too damn stupid to realize that all I want to do is leave."

He barely flinched from her attack, the smug smile yet to leave his face. "Dinnae whether I realize that or nae…t'is whether ye realize that ye'r under mae rules an' there's nae leavin' when I say t'is."

She cursed aloud.

The other rabbit gave a short burst of laughter. "Ye do got yer'self a nasty one there. Ye sure ye dinnae be sharin'?"

Heather passed him a look short of disgust, which then turned to that of amusement. "Nae such luck, Moonwort."

"Ah, well, at least she'll teach ye that dinnae be all does kissin' ye'r feet!" Moonwort replied with another laugh.

"Does kissin' mae feet? Where hae ye heard such _hraka?_" He lifted one paw and inspected it with kitten-like innocence. "Mae feet be as dirty as Inlé. Oh, off with ye, Moonwort!" He sniggered aloud. "Dinnae ye hae some sort of job tae do?"

"Leave the Chief alone with his doe—aye!" Moonwort bounced off.

"I am not your doe," she said, lifting her head to look straight into Heather's grey-brown eyes. "Never was, never will be." She yelped as he pushed her towards the burrows.

"I dinnae gave ye a choice, lassie," came his sage reply. "Or hae ye forgotten that?"

"Don't you lassie me…"

He ignored her remarks as he managed to reach the burrow she'd been in earlier that day. With a gentle shove, he pushed her inside. "Ye dinnae be ready, obviously," he said. "Stay here an' rest. Ye can feed later."

"Can't you find…another doe…?" she asked.

"I can." She felt his gaze on her again, and found her feet slightly trembling. That moment she decided she hated him. She hated his guts. She hated his smile. She hated his scent…

His voice stopped her thoughts. "I s'pose ye hae always known how much of a prize ye are."

"I'm not a prize," she said simply, sinking down as her weariness overcame her. "I'm a doe."

"Exactly," he said, before he left.

***

Heather took a deep breath the moment he was well out of the burrow he'd left the doe in. He'd tried to act calm and cool around her, but by Frith…she was well too stubborn for her own good.

"'Least she's pretty," he mumbled, making his way down towards the end of the run where he saw a rabbit looking at him expectantly. "How is it, Woodsia? Anythin' f'er me?"

Woodsia grinned broadly at him. "As a matter of fact, I do. Walnut's dropped in. We're stuffin' him right now, good an' proper…looks dishevelled, the poor thing."

"Walnut, aye?" Heather blinked, then remembered the rabbit as one of Hemlock's more favourite runners. "Does he look bad?"

"Nae, just exhausted. Seems tae have some news f'er ye though. Better come with me tae see him."

"Aye," Heather said. He went outside and followed Woodsia across one of the trails that led to their feeding grounds. "By the way, anythin' with that warren of ours yet? The one we're targetin' I mean."

"Those idiots dinnae be droppin' their guard," Woodsia replied. The rabbit snorted. "All the better f'er them. Methinks t'is impossible tae do anythin'."

"Ye have nae faith," Heather replied. He flicked his ears and butted a low-hanging branch that stood in their way. "I've a plan, but it'll need time tae progress. Much time."

"Better tell that tae the others."

"Sure thing," Heather said. Before he could say anything more, Woodsia nudged his shoulder to tell him that they've arrived.

"Walnut!" Heather said, leaving Woodsia to greet the gaunt rabbit, grazing the grass ferociously like one deprived of food for so long. He sat down in front of him and waited until the rabbit had touched his jaw with his nose. "What be the news, mae friend?"

"Sorta' terrible," Walnut said, sitting back and giving a deep sigh.

Heather's bright gaze slowly turned serious. "Tell me."

"Well," Walnut said, swallowing. "See, r'member that 'un warren that called on Hemlock and wanted tae stay with us?"

"Aye."

"Turns out they're this 'un called Primrose-rah."

Heather flicked one ear. "Ye'r kiddin'…"

"Nae, nae…they be Primrose-rah. Warren's destroyed. Fleabane arrived an' told us they was attacked by this 'un man of some sort so why they hae gone on this 'un trip tae north-east. Hemlock anyway had us attack that 'un warren an'…well…"

"It really _is_ Primrose-rah, then?"

"Aye. Hemlock killed their Chief but they…escaped."

Heather licked his nose. "So…"

"Half of our rabbits died on that 'un battle."

"_Half_?" This time, Heather's voice rose.

"Hemlock says ye' dinnae ought tae fail on this 'un mission of y'ers 'cause t'is the only chance we have. He's packin' down f'er the winter, hopin' tae gain a lot of this 'un young rabbits, but t'won't be enough, methinks." Walnut took a deep breath. "Bring this 'un warren tae him an' we kill that 'un Primrose-rah…"

"Then we find another warren f'er ours?"

"Exactly. Hopefully, Hemlock says, t'is be enough tae get back Quieflain an' Forest, an' I dinnae be exactly doubtin' him."

Heather licked his lips. "Good job. Get back tae ye'r feedin', Walnut…ye can stay 'ere f'er a while, then go back tae mae brother an' tell him I got his message. An' that it's affirmative. We dinnae be failin'."

"Aye."

Heather nodded and made his way back towards the area where the burrows lay.

"That doe…" he said, turning his head slightly to where Woodsia hopped quietly beside him. "Go tell her tae be ready."

"…Heather…"

"T'is serious." He lowered his head. "The more rabbits we hae', the better. An' t'is best we begin now."


	27. 

** 27**

Seed gulped. The tingling in his veins was growing by the moment, mirroring his uneasiness. It was not so long ago when fu-Inlé drew near and Anemone, even as they were feeding, had decided it was time to meet the Chief as scheduled. He had led them, from the feeding-grounds, back to the burrow-system and into what seemed to be a breath-taking array of runs, mazes, and guards that by the end of it all both Seed and Useth could barely keep their own front paws straight.

Now they had to wait behind a long line of squabbling, noisy rabbits that pushed and shoved and had to be scolded by the guards before they'd shut up. "All waiting for the company of our dearly beloved Chief, thou should know," Anemone said, at Seed and Useth's puzzled gaze. "He makes it a point that rabbits are allowed to see and talk to him about matters…personal or otherwise."

"Something Oryctol-rah would _never _dream of doing," Useth whispered to Seed, leaning her head against his shoulder for comfort. "'I'm the damn Chief, not a therapist,' was what she'd always say."

"C-chiefs have many ways of d-dealing with problems, I-I guess," Seed replied. "T-though I can imagine what Timothy would say." He was about to continue on but decided that the joke depressed him too much, thinking of his father and his past, and he decided to shut up. Useth, who did not seem to notice his sudden silence, did not press him about it.

"Thou wakest up," Anemone spoke aloud, turning his head over to them. "The Chief should call us next."

Useth stood up, stretching her front legs. "What's your Chief like?" she asked.

"Thou dost not say such things in his burrow," Anemone replied with a twinkle in his eye. Then he laughed. "Thou shan't have to worry. The Chief is a good fellow."

"Even to strangers?" Seed broke in.

Anemone did not answer his question and instead began to walk into the burrow. Seed passed Useth a look before he followed him.

The burrow was quite large and roomy, and smelled full of rabbit and _flay-rah_. Not a bad smell—almost homey, in fact. Seed found it comfortable to sit beside Anemone and by now, with his once-hammering heart calmed down considerably, he had enough courage to look straight to where the Chief Rabbit stood.

And he was awed. The Chief Rabbit of Nur-Lath was an impressive specimen. He was not as large as Timothy had been, but he was well-muscled all over without looking fat, and he held himself with a certain dignity and air that Seed was vaguely familiar with. He looked over the half-cowering Seed for a moment then passed his gaze over to where Useth crouched, passing moment-quick judgements. Then he said, his voice calm and subdued, "Ah, I bid thee welcome to my warren, travellers."

"T-thank you…" Seed stammered. He smoothed his whiskers with one paw. "It…it's a wonderful w-warren, certainly."

Unmoved by the compliment, the Chief beckoned to him. "Normally I do not allow strangers into my territory, but I have thus heard my trusty soldier here hast reasons for an exception. Might it be that I hear it?"

"Of course, sir," Anemone broke in. "They are from Primrose-rah."

His single sentence made no sense to neither Useth nor Seed, but it seemed to lift a heavy burden off the Chief Rabbit's mind. He nodded his head. "Ah. I should have known from thine accent, little one."

"I'm sorry for interrupting, but I'm a little confused…" Useth began, voicing out the question that was in Seed's head as well as hers.

"No matter, my dear. Thou art welcome in my warren. Not so long ago, though how long my memory perturbs to remind me, a traveller like thyself—seasons be kind to him—came by and helped this warren in time of peril." The Chief Rabbit looked away, reminiscing. "He was a quiet sort of rabbit and did not tell us much the time he spent here, but he did say he was from Primrose-rah. We owe a lot to him. Thou art wise in remembering him, Anemone. I remember thou were a little kitten that time."

"Heh, a strangely foolish one of sorts, Comfrey-rah. I'm not too proud of it."

"So it's okay to stay here, then?" Useth asked. Seed felt her beside him and nosed the side of her shoulder in the familiarity of her presence.

"Gladly, my dear." Comfrey paused for a moment. "Thou seems to reek of Owsla experience—I have seen thus often enough as it is, little it may be. Tell me, art thou interested in joining it?"

"I was going to ask you about that…" Useth said, half-grinning. "Is there an opening even for rabbits like me? And Seed too?"

Comfrey paused again, and Seed shrunk back as he realized he was sizing him up again. "I suppose if thou tries hard enough, though thou should be warned, my Captain of Owsla is strict on trainees. Ah, well, that settles it, my friends. Thou art welcome to call on me anytime thou wishes. As for the opening in the Owsla, I suppose Anemone here knows enough to guide thee, dost thou, Anemone?"

"Yes Comfrey-rah. Let's get back outside, shall we? Before the night wanes away." With a nod, Anemone respectfully stepped out. Seed looked about before getting pushed by Useth and they both trotted behind him.

***

"A traveller from Primrose-rah, huh?" Useth asked when they stepped outside into fresh air. She looked about and made herself comfortable between the soft, dew-slick grass. "Have any idea who that was, Seed?"

Seed looked up from his meal. Anemone had abandoned them earlier for his own business, telling them that "as long as the Chief says so thou art as safe as bees in a flower". "I don't know," he said. "If Anemone was a kitten then that was p…probably way before I was born."

"I guess. No sense in thinking you'd know even if you _are_ the Chief's _son_…"

He threw her a hurt look. "Y-you're so mean."

"I'm full and drowsy. I'm much more inclined to be mean at this state." She grinned at him. In the moonlight, she seemed less buck-like.

"W-what's weird though, is that I've never heard of rabbits l-leaving Primrose-rah. Maybe for Forest or Quieflain or I-Inléthlay…but if he came from those warrens C-C-Comfrey would have mentioned it, r-right?" Seed stretched out his front paws against the grass, fully relaxed.

"Logical enough." Useth hopped closer to him and lay down as he was. "Hey. Anemone said all we have to do to enter the Owsla is to get to talk with the Captain himself. I guess in a small warren that's not strange—in Inléthlay I never got a chance to meet Appletree face-to-face until I got to a higher rank. And he's my _brother_."

Seed's ears shot up. "He is?"

"Half. Last litter before me. Favourite son of my mother, that he is—she nattered a lot about him when we were kits."

"H-he doesn't look like you."

"Wouldn't want to have a blue eye. Wouldn't that be weird on me?" She blinked one eye and then burst out laughing.

"H-hey, Useth…what about me…I mean. I'm not that interested in joining the Owsla…"

She broke from her laughter and eyed him seriously. "Seed, you have to. Do you have any idea what being a non-Owsla rabbit in a militaristic…"

"…what?"

"…Owsla-ish society such as this…" She rolled her eyes. "A non-Owsla rabbit in this warren would just be pushed around—especially if he's a stranger—especially at your size. You're not small, Seed, I told you that before, you just…er…need—some sort of confidence in you."

Seed sighed.

"Besides," Useth continued. "Would you really want to stay around, in the bottom of the chain, get no burrow, outskirter-like?"

"Well, no…"

"I wouldn't want to leave you behind, you know."

He glanced at her. She was looking down the ground, tracing circles around the grass with her paw. "Seed…" she began, without looking up. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Hmmm…?"

"See…" She sighed, one ear drooping. Then she looked up again as if she had decided on what to say. "The Chief thing…if you've been given…you know. A choice. You said you never wanted to be Chief but—if you could go back…would you?"

He turned away, blinking hard. "I g-guess…" He sighed. "Yes."

"Why?"

"E-even when…w-when I failed in it…I guess…I want to make up for that."

He looked down and watched the dew shimmer in the moonlight.

Everything became quiet except for the blowing of the wind. Useth fidgeted slightly, unsure of what to say next, but Seed broke the silence first. "I'll join the Owsla, then."

She looked up. There was no stutter in his last words, which made it all the more strange. "You would…?"

"I-I guess I want…maybe t-this way…I w-won't be that much of a failure…" He flattened his ears. "But I know nothing. Would you help me through this…please, Useth?"

He was surprised when she approached him and touched her forehead against his. "Heh, me, help you? Of course." She drew away. "It'd be a shame if I leave you now, after all the work I've done on you."

***

Comfrey had pride and dignity—Rampion, his Captain of Owsla, only had a rugged look to him, although he was just as large. He greeted Useth and Seed's appearance with a scowl, well-evident in the early daylight they had found him in. Neither of the two could remember seeing a rabbit with as many scars, not even the old war veterans from the four warrens in their district. There was no denying Rampion's ferocity—his sharp dark eyes were enough proof.

"So, thou art the strangers they told me about," he said with something akin to a snarl. He lifted one side of his lip, whiskers curling. "I can thus tell from thy smell. What dost thou be wanting with me?"

"I've…heard you're the Captain of Owsla here…?" Useth asked. Seed flicked his ears. For the first time ever Useth was showing signs of anxiety, but what he found strange was that instead of this scaring him, it actually made him feel a little braver.

"Thy sources are correct," Rampion said. He squinted his eyes. "Dost thou wish to ask anything further?"

"W…w…we wish to join your O-Owsla…" Seed said.

Rampion gave a smirk. "Of course."

"W-we were hoping you'd let us," he continued.

The heavyset Captain stood from his crouched position and swaggered over to them. Useth cringed. Seed found himself standing protectively in front of her, even though his own fur was standing on end, his teeth clicking against each other. "W…wh…" he began.

Rampion cut him off. "Of course thou mayest join the Owsla," he said, peering close at Seed. He ignored Useth as he sniffed the buck all over. "Ah, yes. Both of thee—thou shall be sent to sentry duty. Thou shall report to Captain Buckthorn—fair, firm fellow, however friendly enough for newcomers as thou art. In a while I shall have thee called to see how thou farest, and see whether thou shouldst commence to the next Owsla level."

"Fair enough," Seed heard Useth say, stirring from behind him as she regained her boldness. "Are we dismissed, sir?"

"Remember, Buckthorn," Rampion said with a fierce nod.

The two rabbits gave him one last look before bounding off for the burrows.

***

Rampion was right in his words, and soon Seed and Useth were immersed in the tedious, boring life that was sentry work. For at least half a day, daily, they would each do nothing but sit in front of a burrow or warren-entrance, taking note of those who pass by and blocking those that they should from entering. Being newcomers and no more high-ranking than the ordinary rank-and-file of rabbits, they had to share a burrow with Anemone, who was more than willing to help them out.

On the seventh day of their arrival in the warren, Seed found himself staring eye-to-eye with none other than Rampion himself, as he sat by his post. He blinked in shock, and then stammered, "S-s-sir!"

He gulped as Rampion's dark eyes roved over him, and felt his fur bristle when the Captain nudged his fore shoulder. "Straighten up. Yes, yes, just like that. Why art thou eyes all droopy? Liven up—no soldier is on duty half-asleep."

"S-sir…"

"I've decided to try thee and thy companion out—see if thou shouldst step further up rank. Come with me—she is already outside, waiting for us." Rampion looked over his shoulder and yelled, "Crocus! Take over Seed here. Don't stand there with an open mouth—thou lookest worse than a _tharn_ owl in the rain. Well, step up then. Frith rises and falls, thou shouldst know."

He followed Rampion up to one side of the chasm, a bit of a distance away from the feeding grounds. Here, vegetation grew thickly, and Seed was a little apprehensive when he and Rampion had to plunge into the bushes. He hated the dark and the damp, cold feeling the brush against the many leaves caused, and his leg was starting to bother him again, but he wouldn't want to be the rabbit to stir Rampion's wrath.

They emerged into a clearing, where a group of rabbits crouched in a disorganized fashion. His ears perked up as he recognized Useth, brooding in a silent corner. He flicked one ear, passing Rampion a look, waiting for some sort of command—which never came. Rampion seemed to have forgotten his existence for the moment. A little glad of the fact, he slunk towards Useth and crouched beside her, his head against her shoulder as they took in each others' scents.

"Thou art the new batches of would-be soldiers in our empire," Rampion said out loud. Every rabbit in the clearing had ears towards him. "For the most part, thou hast all served well in the amount of sentry duty time thou hast done. Now, before thou shouldst go any further, I shall have to see thy fighting skills. Next to obedience, fighting is most important in an Owsla."

"Ugh," Seed muttered.

"Shouldn't…be too hard," Useth replied.

Despite her optimism Seed felt her thrust her head against the crook of his neck for comfort. "Hope so," he said, twitching his nose. "H-hope so…"

Rampion started the affair off by calling rabbits two by two and having them battle each other in the middle of the clearing. Seed watched them with fear—most of the rabbits were good fighters, even to his inexperienced eyes. Vaguely, he hoped that the rabbit he would be paired up with was Useth. At least he could expect her to let him off easy, not to mention she wasn't that much of a good fighter herself…

"Useth, Ilzen."

He cursed beneath his breath.

Useth strode forward, meeting up with a large doe. She could feel her pulse quickening even at the mere sight of her opponent—but she wasn't the one to back down. The moment Rampion gave the order, she lunged, teeth bared, aiming straight for Ilzen's throat.

She felt something slam against her back and before she could realize what was happening, she was being shoved face-first towards the ground. Soil flew into her face and she could feel dirt inside her mouth. She cursed, biting her lip, as she began to kick the air.

Ilzen momentarily let her grip relax and this she quickly took advantage of, rolling over her back and striking Ilzen's exposed chest with both claws. Ilzen fell back with a roar and this was when she took the time to regain her own footing.

"Little _hraka_…" Ilzen muttered.

Useth dove in and struck her shoulder.

Ilzen roared again and reacted by aiming a heavy cuff across Useth's face. A bloody mark appeared across her cheek and she tottered back, breathing heavily.

"I've seen enough," Rampion suddenly said. "Thou shouldst not develop too much hate against each other—thou will be working together soon. Next—Seed, Tansy."

"Break a leg…" Useth whispered to him as he made his way to the center.

He looked at her in shock until he saw her wink. "At least, try to break the other ones!" she whispered. "Not literally, of course!"

"W-wipe the blood off your face…" he said, barely getting her joke at all, before shrugging and turning around to face his own opponent. Tansy was a buck of his own build and height, but there was a hardened look about his face. Experience was on the side of these Nur-Lath rabbits.

Seed had been analyzing everything, trying to think of the best plan for his attack—consequently, when Rampion's command came, he was taken aback. He hadn't had time to react when Tansy's teeth drove into his side and he gave a squeal of pain.

Blood flowing down his side, he lunged helplessly at Tansy with bared teeth, but it was no use—the rabbit expertly avoided his attacks. Seed's trying to aim at him with claws was proved worthless as well as they were reduced to mere flailing. After a while, Tansy let him go, and he staggered up, blinking.

Tansy was no more but a mere blur to his eyesight, but he limped after the rabbit, anyway. It was a useless move. Tansy cuffed him and as he cringed down, trying to recover from his head's reeling, he heard Rampion call the battle off.

He limped back to Useth's side, panting and dizzy. It took a while for his senses to return, and when they did Useth was licking the side of his face, the battles were over, and Rampion was giving out orders on what they were to do next.

"…thou returnest to sentry duty, may't be that thou are best at it," Rampion was saying, indicating the group of rabbits whose names he had just called out. "Thy work will be official now, of course, and there shall be plenty of opportunities for promotion. As for thee—Ilzen…Redbud, Elm…er, Blueberry…and…" he passed the rabbit beside him a look, and waited until the rabbit had whispered something to him. "Tansy…" he muttered. "Tansy. Aye, thou art good fighters and are to be transferred under Captain Pimpernel's command. Hearken now, move…the rest of thee…" He turned to the half score rabbits that sat watching him with flicking ears. "Thou shall commence to my next set of exercises. Tomorrow, at dawn, be here. Thou art off your duties until that time."

There seemed to be a breath of relief from the trainees and one by one, they slunk off.

"Seed?" Rampion suddenly called, when most of the rabbits had left.

Seed looked up. The hefty Captain was walking towards him.

Useth slunk behind Seed as Rampion approached. "I have a different exercise for thee," Rampion said. He sat down and began to groom, waiting until it was the three of them left in the clearing. He cocked one eye open and turned to Useth. "I trust that thou art his friend?"

"Yes…" Seed replied for her.

"Hmmm, suppose it's fine then for her to hear this. Well, Seed. Whenst tomorrow they shouldst be meeting here, thou art to proceed south, alone and unaccompanied."

Seed flicked his ears, disbelieving what he just heard. Then, he asked, "W-what do you mean…?"

"There lies along the path somewhere in our territory, a tree," Rampion said.

"…a t-tree…?"

"Thou hearest right—a tree. Thou shouldst know t'is the one I am talking about once thou seest it. Near the top in its trunk is a hole with a green stone inside. The tree lies straight south of here, in the borders of our territory. I want thee to fetch that stone back for me. Alone, unattended."

Seed sat, staring dumbfounded at Rampion on the strangeness of his task. Useth, looking back and forth, took the initiative and asked, "How should he be certain he's in the right tree?"

"He should be. It is the only tree in the southern border that could talk to Frith. Easy enough, doesn't thou think so? Erm…eherm, Seed. Thou understands?"

"Ah…y-yes…" Seed muttered, although he didn't. "S-south, s-s-sir…?"

"I will expect thee to be back in several days," Rampion said, hopping away. "Try not to fail."

***

Shock coursed through Anemone's face the moment Seed and Useth related Rampion's strange request to him. It took a while for him to recover, and when he did, he was shaking his head furiously. "That," he said, when he found his voice, "Would be the _Eithri_ stone. The test is rarely given. I was not expecting Rampion to give it to thee."

Seed raised his ears. "W-w-what do you mean by that…?"

Anemone looked like he was about to say something, but then for the first time ever, shut his mouth. His direct gaze at the sky made Seed even more suspicious, and he looked imploringly towards Useth for help.

"Speak up, Anemone," Useth growled, flattening her ears. "Before I make you."

"Thou dost not understand," Anemone said, flicking one paw. "Walls have ears, and the leaders are to be obeyed. Thou rememberest that."

"Walls have ears…what a bunch of nonsense. Come on Seed, let's go get some _ silflay _or _sirfai_ or whatever they call tucker these days…" Useth turned around and walked off.

Seed looked at Anemone and sighed before trotting after her.

"Frith take care of thee…" he heard Anemone say before the rabbit was completely out of earshot.

***

"You're going, right?"

It was past fu-Inlé and the two rabbits had strayed over the edge of the heath, alone save for themselves. Seed nibbled on a leaf and said, mouth full, "G-guess so…"

He felt Useth hop close to him. "Do you even know _scat_ about tracking alone?"

The knowledge descended on him. He looked up. "N-no…"

Useth bit her lip. "You're not gonna turn back now, are you?"

He scoffed at the statement. "Frith, no." His head suddenly drooped and he sighed. "B-but…"

Useth was quiet for a while. "Just do this. Keep your wits about you. When you move, go straight for the nearest cover…don't delay hanging around the open for long." She sighed. "And for goodness' sake, use your nose…"

"H-how can you be sure I'm going south, anyway?" He looked away. "I'll…Useth, I'll get lost."

"He said straight south. Frith on a mountaintop! You wouldn't get lost if you had your entire head caked with mud." He heard her laughter echo through the air, but that did nothing to mask the scent of fear she was emitting. "South. Frith rises in the east, which is that way." She pointed her head towards a grove of trees that marked the edge of the safer feeding grounds. "You leave at dawn…so you'll see it…" She then turned the opposite way. "Frith falls in the west. In between east and west are north and south. North lies above. South lies below."

Seed blinked. It took a while for him to properly digest the information, but once he had looked over what Useth said, the basic knowledge every patroller in the Owsla should know, he suddenly got it. "So…I go straight…that way…?" He pointed a paw down south.

"Yes."

"The tree. T-the only tree in the s-southern border that can talk to Frith." He furrowed his brows. "W-what's that supposed to mean?"

Useth shrugged. "I don't know. What I know is that it's almost dawn…"

"I-I'm going…then…" Seed said, gulping.

"I'd try to figure it out along the way, if I were you. Er—I'll go and tell Rampion you're leaving, so you don't have to."

Seed nodded. He watched Useth rise and begin to hop back, but after a few yards, she stopped and returned. "Er—Seed…" she began. "You've been travelling for a while now. I suppose you'll be okay…?"

"I…t-t-think so…"

She looked away, biting her lip. "Well…"

"I'll be careful."

"Yes." She nodded, turning away again, but before she could stop herself she suddenly thrust her head against his left shoulder and nuzzled him up to his chin. "Come back alive for me, won't you?"

He blinked, surprised at her actions. "I…I promise."

She realized what she just did and drew back. Trying to save face, she gave him a close-eyed grin. "Frith bless you."

He did the same. And felt happy doing it. "You too."

He trotted off, feeling more confident. Useth's smile was enough to fuel his spirits.

Along the eastern sky, Frith was already beginning His wake.


	28. 

_Author's Notes:_

I normally do not like putting these things in the middle of the story, but I feel this is necessary. This chapter is an important part in the development of Lang-it and Heather's characters. Unfortunately, a good paragraph here might be frowned upon by the majority. To avoid any heat, I am going to forewarn you and say that unlike the rest of the story which is rated for PG-13, this chapter is rated _R_. 

I have good faith in this community which I believe is mature enough not only to read this chapter without qualms but also mature enough to prevent themselves from any outbursts and overreactions. Thank you.

** 28**

_ Frith…_

_ Where is the light in all of this?_

The pounding of her heart echoed through her head, leaving her dazed, confused, unsure of everything but its sound and the strange scent arising within the burrow. She trembled. There was heat in her nerves and on her back. A small whimper tore itself from her throat.

"Ye will hae' tae' get used tae me," he said. His carefree, roguish voice was replaced by something to a near-whisper, husky yet soft. She trembled once more, feeling his breath against her neck. Warm…

…inviting…

…no, no. She hated it. She hated _him. _She felt heat once more rise within her, but before she was consumed she turned to him and spat out a long string of curses. In the dark, she sensed him shift his weight, and look at her with a mixture of bewilderment and longing. There was no room for amusement this time around. His gaze unnerved her.

"I want none of you…" she hissed, digging her claws into the soft earth. "None."

"Ye' hae' nae choice," he said, placing one paw over her. "Lie down, lass. Crouch f'er me. T'is useless tae battle."

Something flared in her brain in response to his voice and his scent and that paw, that paw oh-so softly caressing her back, and for a brief moment she could have…she would have. But then she remembered who she was—_Lang-it_, daughter of a Rah. To be forced to crouch for a buck…to be forced to crouch for a _vagabond_ was a heresy she was not entitled to.

Anger erupted. She found the strength to throw him off her and strike at his chest with her claws.

"Leave me!" she cried, before scrambling for the burrow entrance. Dirt and grime sprayed across her head as she shoved past him, once again running for freedom, though she knew not where it lay.

***

He let her go, still stunned as he was, watching the grey blur disappear from his sight. "Frith," he muttered, drawing in a huge amount of air. His senses were still masked by her presence. Frith…he'd always thought does were beautiful, but never in his life…_never_…had he found such beauty as hers. Her fur, her scent, her eyes…he lifted one paw to stare at it, transfixed. He could not believe he had touched her softness and lived to marvel at it. Would it be that if he died now, he would not regret that moment between them…

The sound of thunder cracked through the air, waking him from his stupor. He shook his head and padded out of the burrow to follow her trail. He was not worried that she would escape. At her state, and especially at the rain that was beginning to fall from the sky in tiny droplets, it would be hard for her to properly hide from an experienced tracker as he was.

_ The elil_, he suddenly thought. He jerked his head up, alarmed. What he could not miss, the _elil_ would not, either, and she _had_ left an evident trail. And he could not at the moment bear the thought of losing her.

As lightning streaked the darkened sky, Heather hefted himself and plunged into the muddy ground to follow the elusive grey doe.

***

As he'd thought, it was easy enough to find her. Her trail led to a small mesh of brambles and bushes, and he could see, even from afar, her fur, damp with rain and mud. Carefully, he padded towards her and spoke, loud enough so she could hear him despite the rain. "Methinks t'is a bad job of hidin' that ye did."

He had known her for only a short period of time yet had expected her reply, a curse, perhaps, or something equally haughty. So it came as a surprise when she did nothing of the sort. Instead, from where she lay came a deep, drawn-out whimper, and the shivering that would only come from a _tharn_ rabbit who had brushed close to death and lived to tell of it.

He took a step back. "Doe?" he asked. When she did not reply, he hopped forward, brushing aside the bushes so he could reach her. She lay limp except for her trembling, eyes glazed.

"Doe," he repeated, tentatively reaching out his tongue to touch her nose. It was cold and dry. He crawled closer to her and nuzzled her neck, trying to shake her off her trance. "'Ey. T'is cold 'ere."

Her lips moved, and thinking her stupor was ended, he turned to brush his ears close to her muzzle, hoping to catch whatever it is she was going to say. But no words came. All he could hear was the howl of the wind wafting by and the pestilent dripping of the rain.

"Ye be better off somewhere warm, methinks," he said in a low voice, which went along with the gentle glimmer in his eyes. Maybe he was too harsh on her. Maybe he ought to give her time to settle. Hemlock could wait. The entire warren could. If it wasn't too late he might be able to fix a spirit he'd already bruised.

The rain wasn't getting any better, and knowing that sooner or later some sort of _ elil_ was bound to come across them, he did what seemed unnatural for a rabbit like him to do. Lowering his head, he grabbed hold of the nape of her neck and, careful as any mother rabbit, he dragged her, bit by bit, towards safer grounds.

***

She awoke several hours later, the rain reduced to nothing more but the occasional droplets. The first thing that met her was the intense gaze of the buck, Heather. For a moment she was content to stare back, but then the realization of what had happened earlier dawned on her, and what he'd almost done. Her ears folded and she sunk back against the wall.

"I'm nae longer int'rested in such," Heather said, waving a paw. He was lying sideways a few feet nearby, a bored look having settled upon his roguish face. "I take it ye'r feelin' okay?"

She did not reply, choosing instead to gaze at her surroundings, trying to figure out where she was. Heather had chosen the liberty of bringing her into an abandoned _homba_ den…the fox having died not long ago, its stink remaining behind and acting as protection against most other predators.

Heather watched her contemplating and felt something nudge his heart. "That…" he began. "That…"

At the sound of his voice, she turned, and a sudden wave of anguish engulfed him. Her eyes were empty. Her deep brown eyes, flaring with such spirit and strength not that long ago…they were dull now, void of the life and joy she used to possess. In that same delicate moment he found an ache deep within him, as if he wanted to go and plead to the sky and Frith to restore that light, that light in the eyes of the doe with the glossy grey coat. She doesn't deserve this. Not her.

"Who is Seed…?" he asked.

Her whiskers bristled. "How do you know him…?"

He furrowed his brows and hopped closer to her. "Ye'…ye' mentioned 'm in ye'r sleep." He prayed that 'Seed' was nothing close to a mate to her. He prayed that no one possessed her heart yet. Heather, who was used to taking what he wanted when he wanted it, found it suddenly unbearable if he was to claim something that had already been claimed.

She glanced away from him again, another deep sigh escaping her. "No one…" she began, then shook her head. "My brother. M…my brother."

"Y'er brother," Heather repeated with relief. He flinched, churning words in his head. "Ye…ye hae' a dream a while back…t'is a nightmare, I'd be sayin'…ye…" He stopped, finding himself at a loss, and tilted his head at her. "Ye…"

"Why would you care?" she asked, rising on shaky limbs.

"Ye want…tae return to 'em…ye'r family…y'er warren…"

She lowered her head. "…of course I do."

A lump was caught in his throat. He rubbed his chin, struggling to speak the words aloud. "Ye…lass. If t'is what ye be wantin'…I'll hae Moonwort bring ye back tae where 'e found ye'…an' 'elp ye find ye'r warren, wherever t'may be." He sighed. Inside, a part of him refused to acknowledge what he had just said. But that part that wanted her badly was overshadowed by the larger desire to see her haughty and in good spirits once more, that, and even as he was awake, maybe see her smile…

She crouched down again, to his disappointment. "What warren…?" she asked. "There's nothing there. Nothing left to go back to. No one." She buried her head in her paws, trembling. "My dreams…" she said, her voice muffled by the onslaught of her sobbing. "…they reminded me…that there's nothing where I used to have _ everything_…"

To see her sad had hurt him. Now to see her crying was a torture that brought no physical pain but which began to tear his heart in shreds. Heather…Heather, _ Rah_ of Nizorn, found himself cradling the doe's head in his front paws and whispering, _pleading_, "Please, stop ye'r cryin'…"

She found his scent and thrust her nose against him, taking it all in, the sudden familiarity that very something she needed to drive the emptiness away. Then it no longer mattered that he had taken her captive and treated her like dirt because she was just a doe. It no longer mattered that she had hated him with all her might. He was for that while willing to take her into his paws and let her cry in his fur, and he was a rabbit, and alive, and…

…she lifted her head and licked his jaw.

He withdrew, unsure of what she just did.

"Dance with me," she said, her entire body trembling at the words she had never spoken in her entire life. "Dance…with me…"

"What would ye' be meanin', lass…?" he asked, unlearned in the rituals of other warrens besides his…which had no rituals at all concerning this. But his own body quivered at the sight of her, beautiful even in her bedraggled state, her graceful neck arched upwards…her neck…Frith, he wanted to touch it, claim it for his own…

He extended a paw towards her, touching her shoulder with it. She brushed passed him and hopped down, deeper into the den, towards a wider, more open area that the fox had used for its sleeping quarters. Here she paused, turning to him.

It was darker here, and he could not see her as well, but that did not matter. Unused to the strangeness of her behaviour he followed her, but she began to hop in circles about him, staying out of his reach.

"…let it end, lass…" he breathed, his voice raspy, thick with desire. "Let it…"

"How much do you want it to end?" she whispered. "Tell me."

"So much. I want ye'…" he said, advancing towards her again. And this time she did not move.

"Heather," she said, remembering his name as he neared her and his scent drifted into her nostrils once more. "Heather…"

"What do they call ye'…?" he asked as he placed a paw over her back.

"Lang-it…" she said, shivering at his touch.

"Lang-it…" he repeated, finding the name beautiful. "Lang-it…" he muttered, caressing her, moving his haunches close to hers. "Lang-it, Lang-it," he said, repeating it over and over again as he moved into her and she yielded to him and all their past and all their future was drowned in the joy of the present and there was nothing before them but each other, nothing else...

"Lang-it," he said as he fell beside her, shivering and out of breath, and he felt her lean towards him and lick his head with her tongue. And in the darkness of that den, their warmth and heat mingling even as the rain began to fall again from the outside, he felt her smile at last.


	29. 

** 29**

"What's the use…?" he asked himself for the uncounted time that day, staring at the waning sun. He sighed and pressed his thin muzzle against a paw. The trek had worn him out. He'd kept the rising sun at his left side for as long as it was there, but the moment it rose higher he got lost and no longer had any idea where it was he was supposed to go.

"What's the Frith-damn use…?" he repeated, setting himself down with a sigh, sheltered by nothing more but a dishevelled old tree. Exhaustion had made his sight fuzzy and had there been a predator about he wouldn't have been aware of it at all.

He laid his head against his left paw and closed his eyes, trying to drive all but rest away from his mind. Auburn leaves drifted about him as he slowly dropped into sleep.

***

When he woke up, a rabbit was beside him.

"You travelled far, eh?" the rabbit asked, before his eyes were even fully open. In the dark he nodded his head in reply.

"You scared…?"

"I d-d-don't even know w…w-what to do…" he said, laying his head low. He couldn't see the rabbit properly…he was still too tired…but he saw the colour of its coat. It was dark brown, the colour of wet soil.

"Yes," the rabbit answered, pressing a cold nose close to his ear.

"I'm all alone…" Seed muttered. He looked around. Frith had almost set. The sky was darkening with His departure.

"Hey, want me to tell you something?" the rabbit asked. "I knew a rabbit like you once. He was alone and afraid, and he had no idea what he was supposed to do, but the one thing that kept him going was the thought that he wasn't supposed to fail."

"I-If I f-fail, I injure no one…b-but myself…"

"Ah, but that's stupid, you know." The rabbit shook its head. "I bet you have a family."

"They're all dead."

"I bet you have a family."

"C-c-can't you hear…?" Seed asked, irritated. He turned sharply at the rabbit and was about to say something rude when he gave up and sighed instead. "Damn…you won't understand…"

"Rabbits never die," the rabbit said, as if ignoring his comment. "You have a family. Or had, in your point of view…but see…they're still there. And if you fail at this now then whatever hopes they had for you, you who are still living would have been shattered."

Seed turned the thought over his mind. Then, he looked back at the rabbit and narrowed his eyes. "Who are you and where do you come from…?"

"Sleep," the rabbit crooned, and even though he didn't want to listen, he found his body obeying. His limbs relaxed and he fell back into slumber, eyes closed, breathing soft and easy.

_ Be strong and you need not fear. See, I never left you, I'm still here, you ought to know, you know, of course…_

***

He felt a fly buzz inside his ear, and with sudden alertness, he jerked himself up. It was already dawn. The edges of the sky were tinged with reddish-orange, where Frith's first rays had begun to appear once more, foretelling a new day. He gazed at this, his mind clear and refreshed from his sleep, and for a moment, thought of the strange dream he had last night.

"…come on," he told himself, stretching out and nabbing a few quick bites of grass. "Rampion's waiting. Owsla or not, I'll prove my worth to him…"

***

…and Seed, who was the last rabbit Rampion expected to make it through alive, did it.

By the end of four days…a slow progress, even…the young buck stumbled into the tallest tree he'd ever seen in his entire life, and without doubt knew that this was what Rampion had been talking about. _The only tree in the southern border that can talk to Frith_, he thought. _What else but the tallest tree…?_

"The _eithri _stone must be in there," he said, looking up and hopping around the tree, trying to get a better view. It was impossible. The trunk extended so far vertically that he felt dizzy, and he had to look down for a moment in order to regain his composure.

"Of course it is in there," he heard a deep voice say.

It was a familiar one. He turned around and squinted. "I-is it really you…?" he asked.

"Thou thinks a Chief Rabbit cannot leave his own warren when he wishes?" Comfrey said, emerging from the long grass where he had been hiding. "Think again, then."

"I'm s-s-sorry, sir…"

Comfrey shook his head, smiling. "There is no need for apologies, thou rabbit." The huge buck yawned, stretching one paw forward as he gazed up at the tree. "The _eithri_ stone, so I see…? Thou shouldst look up and see what thine eyes can."

"But I already…" he started to protest, then did what Comfrey said, anyway. He still couldn't see anything.

"Even I can see it, and thou knowest my eyes are not as sharp as thine art," Comfrey commented off-hand.

Seed snorted and squinted. Now he could see a small glint, no bigger than a piece of grit from the soil. "It's a-a-awfully small," Seed remarked, before realizing what that meant. Either the stone was tiny, or, as was more likely, it was placed too far up that it appeared as thus.

"I-I…" Seed stammered, looking back at Comfrey helplessly. "I c-c-can't…reach that…"

"Of course thou cannot," Comfrey said in a subdued tone.

Seed took a step forward, confused.

"No one can," Comfrey continued. He gazed up again. "The _eithri_ stone is not really an Owsla test. T'is more of a lesson that we give to rabbits who go forward trying to do things they have not the ability to do."

There was a slight breeze in the air and Seed found Comfrey looking at him again. "Dost thou understand…?"

"Only t…that it's cruel," Seed stated, after a moment's thought.

Comfrey nodded. "But how else to tell them…? So many rabbits trying to reach the stars when they can only graze the tips of the grass blades in high noon. At least they understand when they see this tree."

Seed dropped his head in disappointment. "Does this mean…I can't join…the O-O-Owsla…?"

"Thou cannot get the stone from the tree," Comfrey said, sitting down squarely on his heavy haunches. "Show me some sense, Seed, and give up before t'is worse. Thou shouldst go back…I assure thee thou will not have a difficult time. I'm not about to let my Primrose-rah guests go too poorly."

"You won't…?" Seed asked. He eyed Comfrey and gave a loud laugh. "You've shamed me e-e-enough. G-go back…? Not l-l-likely…"

He gazed up again, at the tree, at the long trunk that protruded straight up, up, seemingly piercing the sky where Frith Himself lives. And he thought, it was impossible to get that stone. Comfrey was right. He shouldn't be trying for the Owsla when he wasn't strong enough for it. He just shouldn't…

"Rabbits get hurt doing things they should not have done," Comfrey said, seemingly reading his mind.

"…then let me die," Seed suddenly said.

He took one good look at the tree, then gave a running leap towards the nearest branch.

He had never tried to climb any tree before…rabbits weren't built for that. And those that could were often of the Owsla, well-trained and muscled enough for the task. So it was no surprise that his first attempt failed. He missed the branch entirely and banged himself hard against the tree trunk, landing straight unto the ground with a quick thud.

"Thou aren't the first that hath tried," Comfrey said, watching him still.

Seed ignored him as he recovered from his position instantly, his limp leg throbbing. It was as if something in his brain had clicked, driving him into a condition where giving up was the last thing on his mind. He checked the branch carefully and made another blind leap up to it.

He crashed back down the ground. His head whirled…his senses were clouded…but deep within, he heard Comfrey's words.

"Hath thou finished hurting thyself?"

He shook his head.

***

Comfrey watched as the young, thin rabbit bruised himself over and over again, clambering up the tree trunk, slipping down on his every attempt. He checked the sun. It had wafted upwards and was nearly directly overhead.

"T'is _ni-Frith_," he said. He watched as Seed lunged at a branch and this time, managed to stay put, limbs shaking and eyes glazing. He licked his lips. "What makes thee try so hard…?"

He watched as Seed turned to him. The edges of the rabbit's mouth were caked in blood from whence he had bit himself. "I don't know," Seed gasped. "I-I-I d-don't…know."

"Give up," Comfrey said, shaking his head. "Give up."

"M-maybe I should…" Seed sighed. He looked up. "F-Frith, I'm useless…"

Comfrey watched as Seed made his way down.

Then watched as a small green stone landed on the rabbit's head.

For a moment, he gaped, believing everything to be nothing more but some silly old dream. But the scent of the grass was still there…and a butterfly that fluttered pass _had _touched his ear. Regaining his composure, he said, "Mayhaps thou hath succeeded…?"

Seed looked at him quizzically.

"Frith rewards those who deserve it," Comfrey said, hopping towards him. He gazed at the stone for a moment, almost lovingly, before taking it off Seed's head with his mouth. He placed it on a large piece of flat rock.

The _eithri_ stone glimmered in the sunlight.

"W-w-what's it dong…here?" Seed asked, noticing it for the first time. He looked back at the tree again and back up, but the glint was no longer there. "And…and…are you sure…" he said, turning to Comfrey. "That t-t-that's it?"

"It was lodged in there tight," Comfrey muttered beneath his breath. His whiskers curled. "There was no wind. There was no earth shake. T'is all Frith's doing."

"H…how w-would you know…?" Seed muttered, thinking there _had_ been a breeze earlier. "It…it might have fallen off on its own. Objects d-d-d-do that…"

Comfrey laughed. "Ah, thou young ones know not much don't thee? It was me who put that stone there in the first place. Aye, I lodged it in tight there."

Seed stared. "…you?"

"Not me now," he said, cocking his head. "In the past, of course. When my belly had not grown this size." He turned around and nudged Seed's ear with his nose. "Well, thou young one…it's something called fate, I suppose? I believe in these things. Come, let us go and tell Rampion someone has finished his mundane task at last. It will come as a surprise, no doubt."


	30. 

** 30**

"Is he alive…?" she asked herself, stretching a paw forward and leaning her head against it. _He has to be_, she thought. Above, the sky was blue-black and hazy grey, swirled here and there with blotches of stars. _They always say he's weak, but I know better than that._

"He will come back less than a buck than he was," a voice spoke behind her.

"It's been a while, Anemone," Useth said, without looking up. She bit her lip, trying to prevent herself from being any more infuriated than she already was. "What've you been up to?" Her voice was sarcastic.

"I couldn't face thee," Anemone said, crouching beside her. He touched her cheek gently with his nose, biding her to look at him. "Please listen to me."

Useth sighed and closed her eyes, her ears laid back against her neck. "Seed will die, won't he?"

"Not that," Anemone replied. The buck looked around once more before leaning closer to her. Lowering his voice further, to that of barely a whisper, he muttered, "The _eithri_ test. T'is not a test at all."

Useth looked at him with raised brows. "You talk in gibberish."

"T'is not a test," Anemone repeated. "Seed's not fit for the Owsla. They sent him to fetch the _eithri_ stone because _no one_ can. It's the easiest way of telling someone what they have no ability to do."

"You mean, it's all a joke?" Useth asked. A hint of anger was in her voice.

Anemone nudged her. "Please, do not be hasty."

The doe let out a stream of hot breath from her nostrils. "Rampion's gonna get it from me. Seed can make it to the Owsla, too. I'll show you—he'll show up with that damn stone any second now." She bristled, and her eyes glazed slightly of fire.

"I'm afraid to say that thy prediction cannot, will not, come true." Anemone jerked his head away from her to avoid getting bitten. "The stone is in the highest tree near south. No rabbit can get it."

_ He'll do it. One way or another._ She stood and walked away from Anemone. _I don't know why I believe in him this much…_

_ But I do…_

_ Frith, I do._

She lifted her ears, suddenly. There was a commotion not far from where they stood, at the south end of the warren. And she was pretty sure it wasn't just her, since it seemed even Anemone heard it too, from the way his ears were pricked.

"What dost thou think that is…?" Anemone asked.

She didn't reply. She had a feeling she knew what it was—but she didn't reply. She just ran. She knew. And she had to see for herself…

She had to see him.

***

"Seed…Seed!" she cried, leaping over the backs of several rabbits that stood in the way. She could see the tufts of fur on the edge of his ears, and the familiar ragged scar that tainted one of them. Heaving, she reached his side, her eyes shimmering with delight.

She closed them and smiled.

"You brought it, didn't you?" she asked, oblivious of the crowd of rabbits that have started pushing their way closer to Seed. "They said you couldn't."

"I sorta did," Seed replied, giving her a pained look. "I…is that wrong?"

"Maybe?" she asked, then grinned. "Let's get out of here before this lot squishes us. I can see Comfrey waving to you from over there."

He grinned back.

***

Comfrey and Seed had parted down south—Comfrey being used to the trails, he'd let Seed go and carry the stone on his own while he went on his own way. Besides, it was part of the deal—Seed was supposed to do it alone. Now, Comfrey viewed the young rabbit, bedraggled and wounded from the weary travel he had done, and nodded his head gravely.

"Welcome back," he said.

Rampion was sitting nearby, a confused look on his face. "That stone," he said, with a tone nearing a snarl. "How didst thou come upon it?"

Seed walked forward and placed the _eithri_ in front of the sceptical Captain.

"He has it, isn't that what matters?" Useth asked. Her whiskers quivered.

Before Rampion could reply, Comfrey spoke aloud. "The doe is right. The task only asks of him to have the stone at hand and to go and come back unattended. This is what he did, I suppose, Captain?"

Rampion growled, before sighing. "Then I suppose thou art in the Owsla now," he said, eyeing Seed. Useth could tell that he was contemplating on where he should place Seed.

"With all due respect, Captain Rampion," Useth said boldly. "He might be better off in the patrols than anywhere else."

"Thou dost not teach me how to run my job," Rampion snapped.

Useth dropped her head, though her eyes still glared with contempt.

"No, not the Owsla," Comfrey stated. The heavy rabbit drew close to Seed, touching the young rabbit's nose with his. "Yes, yes, I was quite right…Rampion, tell the whole warren—Seed is to be my own personal aide. Second to me in position, I would say."

"What?" Useth and Rampion exclaimed, both at the same time.

"W-w-what…?" Seed followed.

"I am Captain of Owsla," Rampion demanded. He approached Comfrey. "That is supposed to be second of command…"

"So it is, so it is. Thy powers, and Seed's, as of now, are equal." He snorted. "Rise and take thy officer with thee. Seed and I have a lot to talk about."

Grumbling, Rampion departed with Useth.

Seed turned to Comfrey, unable to speak from the shock. Comfrey took a deep breath and spoke for him.

"Yes, I suppose thou art very grateful to me. Come, I have a lot of things for thee to do…"


	31. 

** 31**

"Why is there snow?" the kitten asked. "Does this mean Frith is away?"

"Nay, little one," his mother said. "It's simply His way of saying, _believe in Me. I can turn golden into the purest of white…_"

And how true that was, for as Frith's daily rise and fall turned into weeks, the rusty-golden leaves autumn had bequeathed were soon buried beneath piles of soft, powdery snow, and the cold, wet wind had turned more foreboding. Plants shrivelled up and died, and there were naught but brown and white to be seen for miles on end.

The rabbits of Nur-Lath cared less of the newly arrived season than most in other warrens. Theirs was a healthy warren, and food, though rough and nearly tasteless, was easy to come by. Life in general passed by just at it had during the past seasons.

Of course, that wasn't the case for other warrens, and Nur-Lath had always expected a myriad of _hlessil_ to come barging in when least wanted. Exactly a few days ago the very thing happened, and the rabbits gossiped about it like they would anything else that was out of the norm.

"I hear they're rugged and tough. Dost thou thinks that Rampion might let _them_ join the Owsla? He did with the _hlessil_ last autumn."

"Hast _thou_ seen them?"

"I have! One of them's bigger than the other but they both have a wild look about them. Like primroses in mid-winter, I should say. Thou should think that _ hlessil_ in this season would be more pathetic, but these two look healthier than half the rabbits in our warren."

"Dearly hope Comfrey knows what he's doing, letting the lot in here. Dearly hope he does…"

Rumours and gossips aside, the warren continued about its daily affairs with nary more than a moment's panic. The Owsla continued to strengthen itself under Rampion's strict command, and the warren continued to live under Comfrey's bidding and Seed's meagre advices. No one brought any trouble. And the snow just continued to fall.

***

"Awful patrol, I should say. Nevertheless, it was good for winter. Thou art dismissed." Thistle of the Nur-Lath Patrol nodded his head towards his small group of weary officers and watched as they each hopped off to their own doings.

"Useth, a moment please…"

The doe turned her head and trotted back towards him. Thistle nodded his head approvingly as she drew nearer. Does were common in the Nur-Lath Owsla but this one was exceptional compared to them—not by way of skill, for she was merely 'learned', as they would say, and not very talented—but for her quick, assertive nature. It was one of the things he found pleasing in his recruits.

He closed his eyes for a moment as the wind blew past them. "Winter's getting colder," he said. "I'm afraid I'd have to request most of these patrols to be cancelled. Especially those consisting of new officers like you."

He blinked and cast a look at her. For a moment, it seemed like she had just given him a defiant stare. "Nay, I don't mean anything by this—not in the way thou art thinking, of course, of course." Thistle nodded his head. "Get a well-deserved rest for the rest of the season. Come back to me in by the start of Spring. I am pretty sure there's a promotion waiting for thee by the end of this."

He watched as her face brightened up. "Are you…are you certain about this…?" she began.

"Tell thee what—thou art one of my favourite officers." He winked at her. "I'm pretty certain. Or thou canst tell me later on that thou hast found a dandelion growing out of Rampion's bum."

Useth gave him a long stare.

He burst out laughing. "Get along now. Thou hast much sleeping to do."

"Thanks," Useth said, bowing her head. He watched as she started to hop away.

"Wait…" he began.

Useth paused, her ears pointed towards him. "What is it, sir?"

"Thy friend—Seed. He…" Thistle sighed, lowering his eyelids. "I shouldn't be telling thee this. But tell him to be careful of Rampion. Just…that."

Useth stood still, not looking at him, seemingly waiting for him to continue with his words. He sighed again. "There are certain things he has to be careful of, with a high position as that," Thistle muttered low. "Now go, before I am in trouble. Go."

"I am in your debt," Useth said, hopping off.

***

Seed rubbed the sleep off his eyes. The morning was cold, but there was no snow, and he thought it wise to have a bite to eat before going back to sleep. The grass, it was true, was covered in snow—and probably all dead by now—and so he had to make due with nibbling on a piece of bark hanging down the side of one of the trees. It was laid thick with the scent of another rabbit, but that didn't bother him in the least. Territory markings never made much sense to him, even when he was a kitten—not like it would had he been a rabbit of outskirter parentage. He sat down and chewed reflectively.

"They dinnae' seem tae' r'member ye, Heather…"

Seed's ears fell back. He could smell two rabbits approaching, just by the other side of the tree. His brain told him to go out and announce his presence to them. After all, he _was_ the second power in the warren. His instincts, however, shoved him into a crouch, where he stayed, half-shivering, eyes wide open.

The rabbits drew nearer before one of them spoke up. "The Chief did. Dinnae matters tae me, does it? Mae only concerns hae tae be gettin' rid of this place's political figures. Then it'll be easy."

"We hae few rabbits tae 'em, Heather."

"Woodsia, when will ye' learn tae listen tae me?" There was a slight pause, and Seed wondered whether he'd been sensed. The fur on his back rose and to compensate, he drove himself further into the wet, freezing snow.

But his fears were relieved when the rabbit continued. "Go back tae the hideout. Make sure no one sees ye. And don't tell mae doe anythin', okay? Methinks she'll freak when she finds out our plans, an' I've no intention of lettin' her know…"

"Not yet."

"Shut up and go tae y'er work, Woodsia."

"Aye, sir."

Seed waited. From the distance, half-blurred by the snow so driven close to his face, he saw a rabbit head towards the woods and disappear thereafter. His fur slowly settled back to its ordinary state. He waited for another moment before deciding it was safe to get up.

"Halt!" a cry shot up, in that Northern accent he'd just heard earlier. Seed ignored the call. With a wail of fear, he sped back towards the safety of the warren, half-limping from his old injury. From behind, he could hear the rabbit in hot pursuit of him. The pounding of his heart echoed into his ears as he heard the rabbit getting nearer.

***

"Seed!"

"Useth!"

The doe had been staring at the wall in one of the burrows for some reason or another, and Seed, upon reaching her, was instantly relieved. "A rabbit's chasing me," he said, gasping for breath. "No time to talk."

She didn't ask for explanations. "Back into your burrow. I'll block the way."

"Frith, you're so great! I love you!" With a smile of joy, Seed disappeared around the corner.

Useth sat up, a little dazed. A thought struck her, but she quickly dismissed it with a quick sigh. It couldn't be.

Before her thoughts could delve any further, she saw a shadow block the entrance leading to the surface. She moved into the middle of the run and sat down with a business-like look on her face. "What do you want?" she asked gruffly as the rabbit drew closer to her.

"Let me pass," the rabbit said. He went to the sides, seeking a small space to squeeze through. "Methinks I'm askin' f'er nae trouble."

"Who gave you permission to push others around?" she asked, holding her ground. She knew he couldn't pass without having to push her forward, and that wasn't an easy thing to do.

"I'm an Owsla," he said, deliberately avoiding the gaze she had driven towards him. He leaned back against his hunches and was about to give a quick leap, but she sat up so that her ears touched the sealing.

"So am I," she said, knowing very well this attitude, if it ever reached the Captains' ears, would cause trouble for her. "And there's nothing you can do about it, bucko."

"I dinnae be fightin' a doe, but I will if I hae to, so I'm warnin' ye…" he began.

She lifted a paw, her claws glinting against the scant sunlight. "And I'm not afraid to fight a buck," she said. "So I'm warning you…"

The rabbit gave a quick bare of his teeth before slamming into her.

She fell backwards from the quick impact. The rabbit hopped over her and was gone by the time she managed to regain her footing. A trickle of blood dripped down from her face, where his claw scratched her during his leap.

"Seed…" she sighed. "What is it this time…?"

***

Useth's feet took her towards the direction of Seed's burrow. It lay in the centre of the warren, and she remembered being invited in there once or twice—usually Seed preferred to go to the burrow she shared with Anemone. The burrow was smaller than most and had that distinct smell that Useth associated with bucks who didn't live with a doe. It was this smell that greeted her the moment she stepped inside, and even though she didn't recognize it at the time, it soothed her nerves.

"What was that about…?" she asked. Seed crouched nearby, his breathing ragged and quick, the sound of his heartbeat resonant through the thick air of the burrow. Useth licked her lips and watched him trembling.

"Seed…"

When he didn't reply, she ventured nearer, touching his shoulder with her paw and caressing it in a way she had rarely done. Seed remained rigid, save for his shaking. She squeezed her eyes shut. She had never seen him like this for a while, and now that she had, she remembered how much it hurt her.

For a long time, they remained there, their quick breathing the only mark of their existence. And then she opened her eyes and said aloud, so that her voice could pierce into him, wherever he was, "Seed. I'm here."

He flicked his ears and carefully shifted his eyes towards her. "Y-y-you sure…?" he asked. His stutter had disappeared briefly after Comfrey had given him his position, but now it had returned, full-blown.

"Very sure."

Seed looked away, unblinking. "I…I can t-t-trust you…r-r-right?"

She licked the end of his nose. "You always could."

He gave her a soft smile. "Useth…"

"Seed! Useth!"

The two rabbits turned towards the burrow entrance in time to see Anemone crash down among them, tongue hanging down the side of his mouth. Everything seemed so confusing now, and it took all of Useth's effort to be able to say, "What's wrong…?" without losing all her patience. Right now, all she wanted to do was hurt someone. The thought was her only comfort in this pathetic charade.

"A rabbit's been killed," Anemone said. He took a deep, rasping breath, and fell face down, his chest hugging the floor. "Frith, thy doom is upon thee, Seed. Rampion has decided it was thy doing."

"Frith and Inlé!" Useth cried. "I swear, Seed's been with me the whole time!" A sickening feeling came over her. "Seed's…been with me the whole time," she repeated, uneasy.

"The rabbit's been killed earlier," Anemone said. "I believe it's not Seed. Thou shouldst understand. Seed can't kill anyone. Not with his position. It's just plain wrong…"

"Then why is Rampion…" Useth began.

"I don't know!" Anemone snapped. His eyes were glazing. Useth approached him and gently laid a paw on his shivering back, stroking his fur softly. Seed, sitting still behind them, said nothing.

"It's okay, Anemone," she said, licking his ear. "But isn't Comfrey doing anything about it…?"

"He's Chief, but…" Anemone groaned, and laid his head on the ground. "Oh, Seed, Seed, thy coming to the warren was meant to be good, now it is laden with disaster. Rampion has made a mess of things. He has convinced the rabbits it was thou who killed. He has been trying to convince them of thy ingratitude since thou first became as powerful as he. At least, in position."

Seed crouched down.

Useth turned to him. "Thistle said something about this." She narrowed her eyes. "Seed, tell us. Did it seem like it? Did you suspect anything…?"

"…I-I…I did…b-b-but…" Seed shook his head. "I didn't…"

"Comfrey. Only Comfrey can help us." Useth stepped over to Seed and nudged his forepaw. "Seed, come on. The Chief. The Chief can help…"

"Comfrey is wise, and true, but he cannot control a whole warren of rampaging rabbits…" Anemone said. "The dead rabbit was a special favourite. Lo-rith, was it? His family is influential and numerous. Nevertheless, I will help thee out. We can pretend Useth and I are taking thee in for questioning."

Seed nodded and followed them.

***

Comfrey lay in his burrow, his face downcast. When Seed saw him he wasn't sure this was the Comfrey he'd always known. "I didn't kill Lo-rith," was the first thing he said as he stepped inside. "S-s-s-ir…I didn't…I didn't…"

"I know thou hast no reason to kill him," Comfrey said deeply. The rabbit sighed. "But do not look so sad, my son. Come, come closer to me and touch my nose."

He did that, and felt the great burden that seemed to be weighing down on the usually mellow old buck. He gazed at Comfrey, a questioning look in his eyes.

Comfrey laughed. "It's not thy fault, Seed. Never was. Dost thou realize the reason I made thee into somewhat of a second in command?"

Seed crouched down.

"Aye, seeing thee attempt to take that tree down…" Comfrey shook his head and laughed again. "I liked thy attitude. Thou wouldst have been a great leader under the right teaching."

"But I'm not…" Seed began. The old rabbit shushed him with a paw.

"T'is not power or strength that often makes a capable leader. Rampion has both, and I had always suspected he would use that against me." He lowered his head. The lines in his face seemed more distinct now, Seed noticed. He looked old. Really old. As if Frith had added a year to the rabbit's life.

"You and Rampion…y-y-you always seemed…to g-get along…" he said. "I'm…"

"For a rabbit under my care for the past season, thou hast learned few," the Chief said. "Nay, don't hate thyself for it. T'is quite nothing thou shouldst worry about. T'is politics, or so I have been told. Be careful of those thou trust. Many are just seeking to hurt thee when thy back is weakened."

Seed closed his eyes and muttered, "T-true." Elderberry…Quillwort…the whole entire warren. How could they have turned against him when all he wanted to do was give them a better life…?

Then he remembered. _He_ was incompetent. He looked up at Comfrey and asked, "W-why, though? You're a good Chief…"

"Rampion thinks otherwise. And he has…sad to say, my son…more influence than I in this warren. T'is an Owsla-driven place. And who rules the Owsla? Rampion." Comfrey chuckled. "Quite ironic, really. I have hoped that taking thee in and having thee on my side would help increase the odds against him when the time comes, but it's useless. Too bad that rabbit had to die, eh?"

"So Rampion is blaming me…" Seed muttered. He gazed into Comfrey's eyes. The old rabbit had always been good to him—ever since he came to the warren. For a moment, he felt like he had betrayed his own father. "I shall turn myself in," he suddenly said. He stood up and looked at Useth, crouching outside the run with Anemone, and straight into her eyes. "That way, they have nothing against you."

"But see, they already have," Comfrey said, patting Seed's shoulder. "T'is too late for thee. Thou wilt have to leave the warren this evening. I will make sure no patrol follows thee."

A sudden pang of anger struck Seed. "That's it?" he cried, turning to Comfrey. "I have served you faithfully, and now you ask me to abandon you? That's it? No! I'm not leaving! Comfrey…"

"I feel death in my bones," Comfrey said. "This is all I can offer thee now. Thy friends Anemone and Useth are safe—I have even gotten a recommendation from Thistle concerning Useth's promotion. I don't doubt Rampion's capabilities in leading—he will take care of them if ever he manages to bring me down. But he hates thee."

Seed closed his eyes and shivered. "Where will I go…?"

"Northwards. I have patrolled there before in my youth. T'is too scant of food, though plenty of proper shelter. For the meanwhile thou should stay there. T'is far from Nur-Lath's patrol route." Comfrey lifted his paw and placed it on top of Seed's head. "Frith bless thee…"

***

Her eyes squinted. In the darkness of fu-Inlé she found only the glint of the moonlight against the snow visible…in the cold, she found comfort only in the wind. He had long since disappeared from her sight, days ago, wet and dishevelled, tramping north across the frozen ground that she knew in her heart he couldn't bear to face. No rabbit could. That was winter out there, at its greatest fury, and a rabbit belonged in a warm, cozy burrow where he could curl with his friends and talk all day long.

Seed never had that, did he? She remembered. Drawing out a deep sigh, she remembered everything she knew about him…that he had almost been isolated from ordinary warren life, from birth until now, always an outcast, one way or another. She, herself, had never been that sociable, but that was by choice. Seed, she knew, liked company. Seed, she knew, needed someone…

_ "Useth_…"

Seed, she thought, was needed.

Aye, but didn't she? A long time ago, she stayed by his side because Oryctol and Appletree wouldn't be pleased otherwise. Then, because she was his Captain. And then, as a fellow victim of Primrose-rah's political insecurities. And she thought, when he left, it ended there, and she wouldn't care, not a lot, not the way she'd care now.

"_Frithaes_ Useth," he'd said before he left, touching her face and smiling the way he used to, a scared kind of smile that he was always inclined to give. "I'll always be grateful to you."

"I'll excel in the Owsla," she'd said, touching _his_ face and letting her paw drop on its own accord. It was the last thing she had said to him before he'd turned away and left, and she'd watched the snow replace his silhouette and thought she wouldn't care that much. After all, as she said, there was the Owsla to worry about. Right? She no longer had a reason to go with him.

But…the days rolled on…and she found herself caring little about anything _but_ Seed. Nay, she didn't even care about what was happening with Rampion and Comfrey—knew as much about them as she knew of the squirrels' hiding grounds. There were times when she found herself unmoving, staring in space for the longest while, until Anemone would come home and tell her some sort of trivial news that would snap her off her trance for a bit and make her nod her head in agreement to him. Sometimes, she thought, the whole world was going upside down, and she was the one that's going to fall first.

"_Seed_," she muttered, and perhaps it was simply wrought by the cold, or maybe by the worry she was feeling, but she felt her feet tremble as she spoke his name. "Seed." She gazed forlornly at the direction he had taken, wishing he would show up, hoping he would tramp back and say, perhaps, perhaps, "I've left someone here," and he would look at her and without words lead her away, away from all the world's mess and insanity and…

Frith.

She raised her ears and paws, feeling her chest tighten against her heart's quickened beat. "Seed," she said again, and from the far distance, when a gust of wind passed by, she thought she heard him speak her name as well.

"Dost thou love him?" she heard Anemone's voice speak from behind her.

"Don't kid me," she said, turning to face him. She flicked her ears in a carefree manner. "That's just disgusting."

Anemone chuckled. "I'd believe thee, hast thou not been sitting in this place for hours now." He pointed at the patches of snow where her hindquarters had dug deep furrows in. "Useth, is the Owsla that important to thee?"

She laughed. "Of course it is," she said, turning away. "It has to be." Then her laughter was replaced with a deep sigh, and finally, a downcast look.

"Well, I'll leave it up to thee," Anemone sighed, walking away. "Thou art wise enough not to be blind, I suppose, Useth…" His voice trailed off. "I suppose…"

He disappeared, but she barely noticed. "Do I love him?" she asked, her limbs shivering as the cold began to take its toll.

In the far distance, the woods beckoned invitingly, frozen, deadly, _the path to home_.

She stood. And without looking back, she plunged into the snow to follow his trail.


	32. 

** 32**

"Heather…"

The grey doe peered into the distant horizon. A grey mist hung over everything, making the world seemed distant and sorrowful. It mirrored her feelings, and winter has barely begun yet.

She gave a deep sigh.

"Tsk, tsk, lass, I hae' almost bet mae tail's worth ye'll dinnae be actin' like this in less than a year," a voice spoke. It belonged to Moonwort, whose roguish face appeared next to her, whiskers twitching rapidly. "Ye miss him."

"Aye," she said, smiling.

"Mae way o' talkin' dinnae be fittin' ye," Moonwort said with a laugh. "How goes ye' can smile when I feel ye'r sadness seethin' in?"

"He'll be back, of course," Lang-it claimed, nodding her head briskly. She leaned forward and gave Moonwort a kiss near the side of his muzzle. The buck smiled in response.

"Besides," she said, after a moment's thought. "I'm pretty sure I have a present waiting for him when he returns." She smiled her closed-eyed smile at him again, touched his face for the second time, and then walked back into the depths of their burrows.

Moonwort watched the darkness engulf her. "That'n would bring good bairns tae' the warren," he said, thinking of her bulging sides and that distinct look in her eyes that only does in her state would have. He laughed again, shaking his head. "Aye, Heather, ye hae all the luck, ye know. All the damn luck."

***

He had been gone for three weeks when the pains began. The bucks, having learned to expect the smiling, alert doe in their homes, found her increasingly spending her times alone in her own burrow. Half of them, innocent to the ways of does, were alarmed, and some had in fact proposed of going after Heather and fetching him back. The other half argued on letting her alone, and that, soon enough, "The bairns be comin' soon, nae need tae fret, mae boyos."

Two days after the pains, Lang-it found herself in a deep sleep. In this sleep, she dreamt there were two rabbits in a misty night, on a foggy hill somewhere beneath the stars. One of them was old, very, very old, scarred even. Within his paws the younger rabbit slept, oblivious to the world. Both of their coats were grey.

The scene faded. Now, she was lying side by side with a warm, familiar figure, sleeping. "Seed," she heard herself say. The rabbit beside her stirred. "Seed," she repeated. "Why do rabbits have to die?"

"I dunno. C-c-cause…there's always new ones born?"

"Okay."

It was at that moment that a sharp, contracting pain shook her awake. She lay there, wide-eyed, staring at the walls. Shocked, she turned and felt fluids dripping down her hindquarters.

Fear gave way to instinct. She felt the kittens in her womb stir, ever so slightly, and at that moment she began to work hard to bring them into the world. Her limbs shook and her breathing turned to panting.

Then, she cried out in pain.

In the darkness, the mewling of her firstborn began.

***

It took hours. But by nightfall, she felt her womb empty, and, turning slightly, she felt the stir of kittens against her belly, whimpering, eager to suckle milk from her teats.

She stared in their direction, amazed. The scent of kittens. Her kittens. Such lovely kittens. She, in truth, had never been exposed to them. Some of the young does she knew had taken to watching over the kittens of their mothers whenever needed, but it was an experience denied from her. It was the first time she had ever laid eyes on a litter, really.

Blind, helpless, struggling. Could they really be hers?

"Shhh, shhh, my loves," she crooned slowly, nuzzling the nearest kitten. "Shhh." She heard it yelp in response. It was a male. She smiled, giving him a slow, lingering kiss, whispering, "You'll be Seed."

Even with the excitement of her littering, she felt weak. The labour had drained all strength out of her, and it wasn't long before she found her eyes drooping. Though she struggled hard to remain awake, her body gave way, and she fell asleep. The kittens continued to suckle by her side.

***

The news of the birth was a happy one for the small band of bucks. They cheered, they celebrated, they began to go off in search of food to bring down to Lang-it so that she could regain her strength back. She still looked vibrant, they said. The kittens were lovely, they exclaimed. Heather ought to be proud. It was, to be sure, the best litter he'd ever had, to date.

"Only 'cause they dinnae' be carin' bloody 'ell f'er his other does, mind ye," Moonwort had said, winking at her, while fending the lively Seed-roo off with one paw. "I'm sure our Chief would be lovin' these bairns."

But, as the days rolled by, the bucks slowly began to notice that something wasn't quite right. For instance, Lang-it barely left her burrow—and only to defecate, never to find food, or a whiff of fresh air. And then, despite what they said, she was far from 'vibrant' looking. Her eyes were dull. Her coat was dull. She moved slowly, and her voice, once ringing through the muted burrows like a melodious birdsong, had turned raspy and cracked. Moonwort, her most devoted of followers, brought her food daily, but found to his disappointment that she ate less each and every day.

Then, they realized that she was nearing death.

Lang-it slept most of the time, dreaming of the past, remembering the old warren, Seed, Timothy, her friends…and, often, too, her childhood, her mother…her father. They mingled with the present. Sometimes, she would see herself lying by a rabbit, thinking it would be Seed…only to find, upon closer inspection, that he happened to be Heather…

Her moment of peace only came when she woke up, to find the caress of her growing kittens by her side, and hear their soft cries for her attention. And then, she would croon, sing softly, assure them that she was there, and that she loved them, and that she wasn't going to let anything hurt them, not ever, not ever…

But by the end of the day, she woke up and found them dead, and once again, she broke down, only now it was worse, her smiles turning to cries of despair as she asked Frith, over and over again, why He kept taking the sunlight away from her life.

***

"Lang-it…"

The dishevelled doe looked up. The smell that wafted into the burrow was familiar, and so was the sight of the buck. Normally, it should have brought relief into her, but now it only brought more pain. She looked away, not even bothering to speak when he hopped close to her and nuzzled her fur.

"I'm mighty glad ye be alive, mae lass," the buck said, giving her a kiss. "I hae good news f'er ye. Ye'll be off tae good lands soon. Mae mission's nearin' success. Their government's broken down, mae sweet one, an' all I need is tae get these buckos intae their tae take over. I also am sendin' f'er mae brother now. Dinnae ye' be worryin'. Lass…mae lass…stop lookin' so sad. Dinnae be like ye."

"Hasn't anyone told you?" she asked, closing her eyes.

"Moonwort has, mae sunshine. T'is nae reason tae worry. It happens. T'is winter. Nae other does around. Soon ye'll be in a nice place an' a warren. Ye'll be safe."

"There were four kittens," she said, ignoring his words. A shiver ran through her body as she spoke. "All males. They were beautiful, Heather. So beautiful. I…I…I…they didn't even last a week…and they were so healthy…so…Heath…"

He held her close as she completely gave way to her sobbing. "Dinnae worry, mae sweet rose," he muttered, his head on top of hers, a paw wrapped around her chest. "That warren's as good as ours. As I promised Hemlock, I'll be carvin' him an empire. An' mae lass, mae sweet lass, I'll make ye' its queen."


	33. 

** 33**

"I suppose it always ends like this, doesn't it?" The buck made another step and collapsed deep into the snow, his breathing deep and laboured. From beyond, the wind stung him, striking his already frozen coat with continued fury.

"It…it always does…" he said, his eyes half-closed. Beneath him, the snow was soft, but he could barely feel that. He was too numb with cold—his shivering hadn't even stopped for a while. Baring his teeth, he lifted his head to stare at the clouded sky. "Are Y-y-you there?" he asked, aloud. "'C-c-ause…I'm afraid…You never were…"

He tried to stand. Aching. P-pain. Everywhere. But he tried to, anyway, and for a moment, seemed to stare defiant at the distance. The snow continued to streak the atmosphere.

And then he saw it. The shadow of a rabbit, looking at him from behind a tree. Its eyes seem to glow reddish even in the light.

"No…not you again," he said, gasping. He stepped back and felt his hind leg sink beneath the snow. "Please…y-y-you've taken everything from me already…"

The rabbit stood there, unmoving. But he heard its voice. Its voice from long, long ago, perhaps his dreams, nay, also his reality, deep and harsh and foreboding, "_I will take all_."

"My family, my warren, even my second warren…" he said. "W-w-hat do you want now? W-w-what else can I offer you?"

"_Beware, Seed-rah_," he heard the voice speak to him. "_Beware, for we are not done tormenting you_."

"F-F-Frith…" Seed gasped. "I'm s-s-scared…"

He closed his eyes and succumbed to the exhaustion he'd been keeping inside for the long days of travel he'd done. His limbs crumbed beneath him and he fell, deep into the snow. The roaring of the wind disappeared from his hearing.

"I need you," were the last words he said, and even then he was already far from being aware.

***

When he woke, the snowfall had stopped. For a while he continued to lay there, his head throbbing with pain, hunger gnawing at his belly, his limbs still numb with cold, and he knew he was not in the mood to get back up and continue as far as he possibly can. _Why can't I just die?_ _I have nothing left to live for now_.

He closed his eyes again. _I know it's a bit odd to be wanting her here. After all…after all, she needn't need to come with me. She never did._ He curled his whiskers. _But I miss her. Frith, I miss her. I wish I can be with her again, hear her voice, feel her warmth…Frith, it's cold…_

He seemed to doze off again, but after a while he awakened and decided his hunger was far too gone to ignore. He got up, found his limbs almost immoveable, and bit by bit dragged himself to the nearest tree to eat the peeling bark near its roots. He didn't care how tasteless the food was. No rabbit that would survive winter ought to. He ate until he was full, and before he could control himself, was fast asleep again.

He was up and about an hour or so afterwards, heading north across the deep snow, his head reeling, his eyes blurry. In his head, he kept thinking about the rabbits he'd known in his life, the words they have said to him. One, in particular, kept coming back to him, although it made no sense in the situation he was in.

_ "I don't see how I could possibly turn into a flying _ lendri_."_

The thought of her seemed to strengthen his heart.

***

But by the end of three days, Seed was once again worn out. He had gotten used to seeking shelter beneath dead, low-hanging branches or bushes without much fear—the snow would prove tracking a rabbit out of warren territory almost an impossibility—but now he had found a makeshift den dug out beneath an outlay of tree roots, and thought it wise to sleep there that morning. He had just started digging at the entrance, sniffing the edges for signs of anyone that had been in there recently, when a moistened nose touched him on the cheek.

"Who are you?" a voice called, from beneath the den. He staggered back, surprised, and watched as a doe emerged, her fur so thin and patched and her ribs so outlined that she looked more like a skeleton than anything else.

He stared for a moment, and then stammered, "I-I-I'm sorry…s-s-sorry…I didn't t-t-think anyone was h-h-home…"

"That's what I thought when I found this place, too," the doe said. She wiped her muzzle with a thin paw for a second, and then she looked straight at him. He saw her brows furrow deeply.

"What's wrong…?" he asked, feeling nervous.

"Seed?"

Now it was his time to look straight at her. She didn't seem to be any doe he recognized…

She burrowed straight into him. "We thought…oh Frith, after Quillwort…" she began to blabber. "Elderberry sent patrols…against Quillwort's orders…we thought they'd have killed you for sure…warren went on eastward…got left behind…was so afraid…winter harsh, took down many…afraid…oh Seed, oh Seed! You look so rugged and handsome!" And she nuzzled into his chest and seemed to stay there, her eyes closed, her breathing soft and easy.

"Haini…" he managed to say, remembering her at last. The white blaze down her face should've been the first giveaway. She had gotten it from her father, Dog's-Tail.

"Seed…" she muttered, her chin trembling. He felt her completely relax in his grasp and for that fleeting moment, he remembered how he'd thought of her since their last meeting—his desires, the ever-present fear of loving…

"Inside," she suddenly said, before he could take his thoughts further. She turned around and hopped back into her den. "The snow's back."

He waited for her to disappear inside before looking out into the distance. Thin, wispy strands of snow had begun to fall slowly from above, but right now, that didn't even seem to matter to him. His heart only felt warmth, at that moment. Just warmth…

"Seed?"

"Coming," he said, and for the first time in a long while, a smile descended upon his lips.

***

And then the pointlessness of it all was gone.

Even as the fury of winter rose, Seed's life began to take shape in a form he found very pleasant…demanding even in its silence, and, in a way, peaceful. When taking care of a warren was a task that seemed too difficult for him, taking care of Haini, whose weakness would've proven fatal had she been any more alone, became something that he realized he had lately become engrossed into. Each day, he lived for her, like a mother would live for her kits, struggling against the impossible so they would know no want, know no suffering. He fawned over her, taking care of her every need, catering to her every whim. She was his sole source of comfort.

So it was that instead of dying Haini flourished, a parched flower that had found itself in the middle of a long shower of rain. Her coat returned to its customary sheen thickness, and through it her ribs no longer showed, her beauty all but returning in a brighter, livelier form. A change had overcome both of them. As the winter started to dwindle into spring, two rabbits that ought to have been dead since its beginning sprang out, scarred yet alive. Alive. It was a good feeling.

"Seed," she said, one evening late in the winter, as she nuzzled into his coat and gave one long, contented sigh.

He was dozing when she spoke, half-immersed in a sort of dreamlike state where his thoughts drifted from present to past to a world he'd never even been to before. But the moment her words left her lips, he stirred back into reality. He stretched one paw out and muttered, "What is it?"

"Thank you."

He closed his eyes and gave a smile. Funny. He'd just realized that all the despair he used to feel was gone. Even the fear was gone. Haini…Haini wasn't going anywhere, not like the rest of the world that he loved. As a reply, he nuzzled the fur on her back. Her delicious scent drifted into his nostrils. It was intoxicating.

"Is…is there a moon tonight?" he asked, running his breath through the glossy strands, watching her tremble.

"Does it matter?" she asked, arching her neck to gaze at him with bright, dark eyes.

He was a year old, a full-grown buck. It didn't.

Despite all, against all, Seed found himself loving once more.


	34. 

** 34**

As the harsh winter ended, spring rolled into view once more, and the sparrow could be seen talking to the hedgehog, "Stop you hiding you lazy piece of beeswax, you, the grass is soft, the air is warming, and what's more, you scumbag, the sky is clear and full of stars." And, so it was true, the whole world seemed to have changed, and every animal from the woodland and beyond stirred to rejoice in the beauty the winter has left behind.

It wasn't just the sparrow enjoying the clear night sky the moment the winter clouds had left. Useth sat on a small hilltop, unbeknownst to all but the stars peppering the horizon. She had grown leaner during the winter, like most other creatures forced into the outside, but she was far from being in a sorry state. Streaks of dew hung over her thick coat and they glistened beneath the pale moonlight.

She had travelled far, losing her way more than once whenever the wintry snow blocked her senses and the biting wind all but numbed her. No one would ever call her a learned patroller now. For weeks she had lost all sense of where she was going, knowing only that Frith, though He hid himself behind the dim grey sky, would lead her somewhere. 

It was only now, when the sky and the ground had cleared, that she was able to figure out her direction. She had ended up somewhere north of Nur-Lath. The land was barren in a rabbit's point of view and there was no sign of a warren anywhere near. For all she knew, there was no sense in staying around for long.

But what does it matter? What does it matter where she was? Every place was a place, and there was always that scant hope that she would find the missing trail she's been searching for, sceptic though she was. "In the end, Seed," she muttered, lifting her head to get a full view of her surroundings. "You've driven me from good pastures into finding your Frithdamn hide. I hate you." She took one good sniff of the air before bounding towards the nearest bush, continuing her seemingly endless journey, rabbit-fashion.

***

"Ye'r lookin' f'er a what, ye say?" The old buck, tattered and seemingly half-deaf, peered closely into Useth's face. His breath stank of rotten garbage and old carrots.

"I'm looking for a _hlessi_! A rabbit like you and me!" Useth said loudly. Her nose wrinkled in disgust. It was worse than talking to a rock. At least no one expects the rock to reply back. "Have you seen _him_?" It was perhaps the tenth time she had asked, but of course, had lost count after the fourth, like most rabbits would.

"Woo' ye' like tae spend a burrow with me, lass?" the old buck asked, as if he hadn't heard. He grinned at her. One of his front teeth was missing.

Useth walked away in defeat. Some rabbits…

"Aww, ye' sure?" he called back. At Useth's angry snort, he walked away, limping and rambling to himself. "There goes 'nother lass tae' refuse me. Tsk, tsk, and that one livin' round the area hae' a pretty good ass to 'er, too…"

Useth, who was used to the foulness of the Owsla language, lifted her head and politely asked Frith to kill the buck now before she does.

"…ne'er gotten mae' charms back after that accident, nae'…why, hello there, m'bonnie lassie!" And the buck disappeared downhill.

Useth snorted again. If she ever saw him again…

She turned to leave, hoping to find a fresh field where she could forget the rotten scent of the old _hraka_.

"Wait…" she muttered. Did he just say a doe lived in the area? Relief washed over her. That was good news. Does were gossipy creatures. They'd know of any male _hlessi _that passed near their territory if they had the mind to it. She turned around to make sure the old buck wasn't making rounds back at her, then she bounded away to search for tracks.

It didn't take long. She found some fresh _hraka_. She sniffed around it, not wanting to get her nose dirty unless she had to, and found a trail leading to a well-concealed den. There, she made sure, twice, that it was no trick some fox or another might have pulled off, and when the scent seemed right enough, she entered.

"Who goes 'ere?" a rough voice asked.

Useth stopped, her ears laid back in a sure sign of submission, even though that was the last thing in her mind. "I'm here to ask for…er…directions…" she said.

A rabbit met her halfway down the run. She paused while the rabbit sniffed her over, and then relaxed when the other broke into a quick grin. "Directions, eh? Tae where? We're quite be in the middle o' nowhere, if that's what ye' mean."

"I was pretty certain of that…" she began.

"Och, where be mae' manners? Come inside lassie. Ye'r a wee bit tired, I can see that." The rabbit bade forward and disappeared into the inner depths of the burrow. Useth, feigning protest, gave up and followed. The rabbit was right. She _was_ tired.

The doe's burrow was half-full of bedding and was the best comfort she had received for as long as she could remember. And the doe herself was a relaxing companion. She was big, bigger than Useth, with muscles taut and paws void of softness. Her face was almost ageless. She could be two years old…she could be five. The only thing Useth knew was that she was old. It showed in the way she spoke. It showed in the wisdom in her eyes.

"Dinnae ye' speak," the doe said. "Dinnae yet, anyway. Eat. T'is tough grass, but scant food in safety be better than _flay-rah _in danger."

"How I could have used that advice…" she muttered as she did what she was told, eating the bedding that lay round her. She felt drowsy. In a bit, she fell asleep, while the old doe watched beside her, unmoving.

***

She awoke an hour later, and the old doe was gone. She felt a strange lightness of heart and stretched out, humming a tuneless song to herself. Useth was a bad singer.

"Och, ye'r a wake, mae' dear," a voice said. The doe appeared, carrying a mouthful of grass. She dropped it in a corner and pushed it slightly with her nose and front paws. "Ye' look brighter than a bit. Here, I hae' some news f'er ye. Old Moschatel said that huge warren a bit south o' us…famous Owsla warren by name o' Nur-Lath, ye'll be daft if ye dinnae hae' heard o' it…heard some chap has it under 'is control."

"_Some chap_?" Useth asked, looking up. "Are you talking about Rampion?"

"Heh, we hae' a lass 'ere who knows some things, eh?" The doe crouched down and gave a wide yawn. "Pity. I heard a lot o' Nur-Lath when I was a wee bonnie lass like ye', mind ye'. T'was high-class. Most o' mae brethren ne'er bothered to know much o' a warren so far off, but I always had known o' it in the back o' mae mind. That Comfrey. Heard he was something."

"He really was," Useth said. She sighed. "But that's the past, isn't it?"

"Aye. After the strongest hae' their moments, they always fall down."

The image of a red fox flashed in Useth's mind. And the red blood. Trickling small red rivers across the white, white snow.

"So they always do, och," the doe said, chewing on a piece of dry grass thoughtfully. "But like ye' were askin', t'is not this Rampion ye'r talking' about."

"Not Rampion? Then who…"

"Some hlessi. Och, mae' achin' heart, t'is funny to hear o' a mighty warren fall to the paws o' vagabonds like us." She gave a roar of laughter. "Ye' dinnae say!"

"A hlessi?" Useth's mind went back to the events that had happened in Nur-Lath. The _hlessil_ that Comfrey took in that winter. Lo-rith's death. The blame that fell on Seed. It all made a sort of grim sense.

"I hear the warren was already busy with its political affairs. This hlessi 'ere, 'e took advantage o' that and killed both Rampion and Comfrey."

_ The strongest have their moments. Then they fall down._

"How sad," were the words that came from her mouth. She grabbed a piece of what used to be a dandelion and chewed it down.

"Quite," the doe replied. "T'is true, too. Moschatel might be a damn pervert if I ever saw one, but his news are always top-notch."

Useth's ears lifted at the slight break of her accent. But she ignored this. Instead, she said, "I'm afraid I've intruded you long enough."

"Och, mae sweet thing, dinnae ye' fret," she said, giving another wide grin. "T'is been a while since I hae' company other than that toothless old crook who visits round 'ere every other season. Stay an' rest. Let's go out an' I'll show ye' mae' best feedin' grounds."

***

She stayed with the old doe a full day before she told her. "I'm…I'm looking for a buck. About my age. He's a _hlessi._ With a scar below his left eye. And a tattered left ear."

"Why so?" was the doe's first reply.

"I…I have my reasons," she stated flatly. And continued to push the new bedding they've brought in earlier, against the wall.

"I take it ye've been searchin' f'er this 'ere buck f'er the past season?" the old doe asked.

Useth stopped and sat down, her eyes on the ground. "I shouldn't be. I had a job in Nur-Lath's Owsla. I left it to look for that tramp."

"Och, an' ye think ye' hae' seen enough mystery," the old doe said. She chuckled. "Dinnae look so disheartened, mae lass. I know t'is difficult tae' explain, but bucks hae' ways o' makin' us does follow 'em into their damn graves."

"He's not even my buck," she said with pursed lips, going back at her work. She looked up at a dried flower head and nibbled it. "He's just. A friend. Of sorts."

"I was like ye'. I still am." The old doe gave a huge sneeze. "Och, look at what I'm sayin'. Moschatel should know if he's about."

"But isn't he a little…" Useth paused and looked at the doe. "Umm…you know."

"Och, goodness, lass!" The doe extracted some half-rotten leaves and shoved them out of the burrow. Then, she turned to Useth with a cocky grin on her features. "That pervert is harmless. Just got tae' learn how tae tweak that one the right way. Ye grow as old as me, ye learn tae make friends properly. Hmmm…" She paused thoughtfully, and again Useth was amazed at how young and old she could seem at one time. For a moment, she almost wished the doe was her mother. 

"He should be by the marsh right about now. Tell ye what, let's leave this work f'er now and go visit 'm. I'm sure he'll like the company."

"I'm sure he will…" she replied, unsure of whether she was being sarcastic or not.

***

The small outlay of marshland near the old doe's burrow was the last place Useth would expect to find a rabbit in. The muddy soil was certainly no feeding ground, and the water wasn't any more special to look at than a pool by a roadside.

She looked up at the doe, half-expecting her to turn around and say that Moschatel was _actually_ somewhere else, and that the marsh thing was a big joke. "We're going _deeper_ into the marsh, am I right?" she asked, pulling her paw out of a big patch of mud it had sunk into. 

"We're almost there, mae lass, dinnae fear," the doe said, looking no more harried than a squirrel in his tree. She leaned back and leaped over a large puddle that stood in the way. "Now, dinnae go actin' like a weak lassie. I know ye' dinnae be one."

Useth licked her lips and followed easily.

They found Moschatel sitting on his haunches, his legs covered in mud. In front of him sat a huge, disinterested frog, eyes bulging with remorse. The old buck was too preoccupied with his friend to notice the arrival of the two does. "So 'e says, mae dear, t'is preposterous. We all know frogs hae nae ears."

"Mornin', Moschatel, mae boyo!" the old doe called out. 

"Mornin', afternoon, what does it matter tae an old twig like me? Ah'm just sittin' 'ere talkin' tae Briar o'er here…hullo…where'd 'e go?" He looked quizzically at the spot of mud where the frog had sat moments earlier. "How rude o' 'im. And tae think Ah was goin' tae ask him tae tea."

Useth passed the two old rabbits a look. "Tea, tea, I'll take ye' tae tea, ye' ole' bastard," the doe grinned. "I hae some dandelion near mae burrow ye can hae if ye be nice today."

"Nice? Nice? O' course Ah'm always nice, mae bonnie lassie. An…hello there, Ah dinnae see ye' at first. Hmmm, aren't ye' the lovely flower Ah saw the other day? Still considerin' mae offer?" He scratched his long, thin whiskers with a muddy forepaw, and grinned.

"When are ye leavin'?" the doe asked. "I'm sure ye' hae other places tae visit other than mine."

"Ah, o' course, mae love," Moschatel grinned. "Ah was jez' checkin' on ye'r lovely face, dearie. Ah'm leavin' on the morrow. But not a'fore Ah get that dandelion ye' promised me."

"Hmmm…then ye'll consider tellin' mae friend 'ere if ye saw a buck o' her age about?"

"A buck o' her age ab'oot?" Moschatel repeated.

Useth gravely nodded. She couldn't speak—the old buck was too strange for her.

"Aye, a hlessi." The doe nodded. "Speak up, Moschatel. Ye' know I dinnae like ye beatin' about."

"Ye'r words bring a pang tae mae sweet ole' 'art," Moschatel said, waving his ears. He kicked one hind leg against the mud. "Ah've seen some rabbits. Or maybe Ah dinnae. Mebbe? Southeast o' here Ah heard the land was better. But mae ole lovely 'ere dinnae even wanna leave 'er place…"

The old doe quickly took a step back and turned to Useth. "Ye' leavin' soon, lass?"

Useth looked at her, confused. "Leaving?" she asked. "I don't even know…"

"He's seen ye'r lad. Southeast from here, where the grass be lusher. Hear now, dinnae tell me ye'r plannin' tae stay 'ere an' help an ole' doe in 'er spring cleanin'?" The doe sat down and gave her a serious gaze.

"I suppose…" she muttered. She sat up and turned her body the way they had come from. "Will you be okay?"

"Och, mae lass. I've always been okay." She gave her a smile before turning back to Moschatel, forgetting about Useth there and then. "Now, now, mae' ole' rover, how about I gave ye' a song tae cheer ye'r heart up?"

Useth gave a grim smile and walked off, her heart pounding in a curious way. As she left the marsh, the remnants of the old doe's song rose through the air and imbedded itself into her heart for the rest of her journey to come…

_ Mae love's scent was as sweet as honey,_

_ Och, how it set mae young heart ablaze._

_ He was as strong as an oak yet as gentle as a summer breeze._

_ He could strip away all I am an' yet leave me more complete…_


	35. 

** 35**

So Useth travelled back south, her senses all alert, her heart all the more confused. The roads, heathers, and woodlands she passed by seemed to be easier as the weather grew warmer, and for a while, she forgot about Seed, enjoying only the warmth of the sun beating against her burnished coat. She thought, by the smell of the wind and the way the trees bowed to it as it passed by, that it would be a fruitful season. Good day for kittens and grass! She wondered briefly how Inléthlay was doing.

She paused to pass _hraka_ by a rock and then, remembering the Owsla training Inléthlay had given, proceeded to cover it with dirt. She rubbed her paws across the ground and looked up to gather her bearings. "Thch hill notch tchoo far," a mole had pointed out to her earlier, having poked its snout up a hole and smelt her before she saw it. "Choo won't misch it." 

Indeed, she hasn't. A vast thicket of close-growing trees and bushes covered most of the hill, and for a moment, she was sceptical. "Doesn't look like the kind of place a rabbit would be in," she told herself, scraping the dirt one last time. She hopped for a few seconds and then shook one paw over to her side. "But then, what's a rabbit to do?"

She looked around, realizing she had been standing in the open for less than a minute, and dashed towards the edge of the thicket.

It took her most of the day to manoeuvre her way around the place, and the sun was already glowing red by the time she got to the edge. She was far too exhausted to even dig a hole or find one somewhere, preferring to flop down the side of a tree and say, "Eh, let 'em come if they want. I'd doubt the _elil_ would want a dirtbag like me anyway." She was much too pissed off to care, and much too confident in her skills to worry.

The hour passed her by without notice, until two men appeared from the parted bushes and she quickly hopped for cover. She sat there, watching them with half-closed eyes, quite amused at the spectacle they made. Men always had strange habits.

"Aren't you scared of them?"

She pricked her ears. A doe was crouching nearby, eyes wide open, fur dishevelled. Her belly was rounded about the edges, protruding slightly more towards the sides. "Scared of humans?" Useth asked, pointing at the people with her nose. They were walking to and fro, seemingly interested in what seemed to be a black box in their hands. 

"Yes." The doe nodded.

Useth pricked her ears again. She wasn't that far south yet, but the rabbit lacked the Northern accent she had grown used to hearing. "They don't look too dangerous," she said, scratching the side of her coat. The damned fleas seemed to have awakened from hibernation.

"They kill rabbits, you know," the doe said. She extended a slender forepaw and delicately rubbed her whiskers across it.

Useth furrowed her brows, then smiled. "You don't go out much, do you…?"

"I beg your pardon?" The doe gave a frown.

"No, no, I mean…" Useth lowered her head and, drawing it closer to the doe, touched the dryer nose with hers. The doe's whiskers quivered. "There's a difference between dangerous humans and those that aren't." She lifted her head and snorted. "At least, that's what they tell us." She laid her ears back. "You aren't insulted, are you?"

The doe's stiffened body relaxed. "Quite but…never you mind."

Useth gazed back at the humans. They were lifting the black box to the air and seemingly looking into it whilst they talked. "You get used to them after a while," Useth remarked. "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings."

"It's quite al…"

The doe paused.

Useth sat up. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Is there something about that I haven't…" She stopped when she saw the doe's sides twitch.

"My den…" the doe muttered. She stood shakily. "Would you help me reach it? The humans…I don't trust them around…" Her eyes were glazing.

"Hold on." Useth turned to give the humans a quick glance. They were staring fixatedly into the distance and didn't seem in the least interested in any rabbits that would be around. "Where's your den's direction?" 

"I'll show you…just…argggh!" Her eyes whitened and she fell down, kicking at the ground. The dust stirred beneath her. "They're moving…they're…"

Useth, who was more of a buck than a doe in her thought process, was not sure as to what was happening. Alarmed, she circled the other doe. "What's happening?" she asked as the hapless rabbit writhed in pain. "Are you sick?"

"My den…I have to reach my…Frith!" She rolled to her side and it was then that Useth saw that her hindquarters were soaked in a sticky, yellowish-sort of liquid. She realized at that point that the rabbit was giving birth.

It was a situation she was never trained to handle. "Is there anyone from your warren that can help?" she asked, nudging the doe's limp forepaws.

"No…warren…alone…with…" The doe arched her head and squealed. It was the last comprehensible thing she said for a while. Everything else became lost in her cries as the contractions began and the first kitten started moving out of her womb.

Finding that there was nothing she could do to help but watch out for danger, Useth retired to a corner and waited, her whiskers curled in dismay. This was the first birth she had ever seen, and strong as she usually was, it upset her.

The men left. The sun sank and the stars appeared. In the dark, Useth could hear the last of the kittens arrive, wet and bleating. Had there been _elil_ about, there was nothing Useth could have done to save it or its littermates.

But there was no _elil_, and Useth knew this, for she kept a faithful watch throughout the whole night and until the dawn. She never questioned the validity of what she was doing. It was in her heart to serve, and like an Owsla, she battled the fears and the cold, the sleepiness and the exhaustion. Nothing that passed by missed her attention. She might as well have been a buck and the kitten's father.

When the world was streaming with light again, Useth yawned and turned to the doe. "Your den," she said, nudging her side gently. "I'll take you and the kittens there. You can't stay here."

The doe blinked back and shook her head. "Not now," she muttered. The kittens, blind and helpless, mewled by her side.

Useth sighed. "At least eat."

The doe shook her head once more. "Not now," she repeated. Her interest lay only in the welfare of the tiny things that suckled her.

Nodding her head in response, Useth backed down and decided to take a short patrol around the area. "Bloody kittens," she muttered. She sat down and ate breakfast. "Bloody Seed," she muttered again, before marking her bearings and heading back towards the doe and her brood. "Bloody life."

Yet she stood by the doe's side for three days, until the kittens were heavier and stronger, and the doe decided it was alright for them to be picked up and dragged to her den. There were four kittens in total.

"The den isn't too far…just a bit towards that direction over there. When you see a couple of beech trees, look for a pile of rocks. The den is dug beneath them." The doe nodded and licked her kittens.

Useth yawned, knowing that the doe wanted _her_ to take the kittens to the den herself, and be left alone to watch whatever remained. And she hadn't the heart to argue. "Alright," she sighed, going over to the nearest kitten. It was a small male, the only one of the bunch. All the rest were does.

"Pick them up gently," the doe warned. "Very gently." She looked down and crooned towards the other kittens. "Quiet, my darlings. You're all safe."

Useth opened her mouth and bit down over the kitten's shoulders and neck. He squirmed, and she had to use a firmer grip. At this, the kitten squealed.

"I said _gentle_," the doe said with a click of her tongue.

_ You little bastard,_ Useth thought, lifting her head and ignoring the doe's remark. She hopped off towards the direction of the den.

The kitten was heavier than anything she'd ever carried in her life, and she had to constantly stop and rest her jaw. At one point, she was forced to drag the kitten across softer ground. She was thankful that by then she was out of the doe's earshot, for the kitten screamed like something was killing it, and she was pretty sure she wasn't even hurting him.

The doe had said the den wasn't 'too far', but in fact, it took her hours to reach it. She deposited the kitten in a burrow lined with dried grass and plucked fur, and watched him squeal his lungs out. 

For a while, she rested, ignoring the noise. But then, pity struck her, and with a sigh, she crouched down over the kitten and began to softly talk to him. "Shhh, sleep," she muttered. The kitten pawed her across the face, refusing to calm down.

With another sigh, she began to hum a lullaby. And it was only after the kitten had fallen into a deep sleep that she realized it was the same song she had given to Seed a long time ago, when the whole world abandoned them, and they had no one but each other.

Her eyes closed and a slight shiver ran through her weary body.

***

It seemed like hours when she woke up, her senses flaring. A rabbit was in the run just outside, staring at her.

"Who's there?" she called, rising to her feet and standing protectively over the tiny kitten. "I know you're there, so you better talk. Who's there?"

There was no reply.

She felt a slight tinge of impatience run up her spine. "Listen, if you don't talk you're going to..." Without finishing her words, she leaped into the run and threw herself at the rabbit that stood outside. It was the easiest tackle she had ever done. The rabbit quickly lay helpless beneath her paws.

She growled. "Alright, who in Frith's name are…"

The rabbit coughed.

She paused, staring at the figure. It was dark. Too dark to see. But the scent was familiar.

"Y-y-y-you're Useth, a-a-aren't you?" the rabbit asked, speaking for her.

"Seed?" she muttered, drawing back and letting him stand. "Seed?"

"How did you…"

"Seed!" A rush of joy ran through her, and she bent her head and pressed it against his shoulder. She wanted to tell him how she felt. A thousand words smothered her head. But she found that she could not utter a word, and instead, she withdrew and gave a cocky smile.

"Y-y-you…" Seed muttered. He blinked, and sniffed the air, still not believing it was truly her. "I thought you'd…be…in Nur-Lath…still." He felt an impulse to touch her, to run his paws and his head all over her body, but he did not recognize this. All he knew was that he had missed her. She was the only friend he ever really had.

He felt his lip tremble. "Why are you here?" he asked. "D-d-did they s-s-send you…to a patrol…?"

"I followed you," Useth said. She gave a laugh. "And you won't believe this," she said, finding her voice once more as she realized this _was_ the same Seed she'd been with before and she could talk to him unlike any other rabbit. "You won't believe this, but I'm currently dragging these kittens over because a doe gave birth to them out in the open and she wanted me to take them to her den." 

She expected his laugh in return, as she always had. When it did not come, her ears stiffened. "What's wrong?" she asked.

She felt him move towards the burrow. "Kittens?" he asked.

"Yes…?"

He looked back. "She directed you to this den?"

"I suppose it's this one…"

"Useth, take me to her." A sense of urgency rose in his voice, one that Useth had rarely heard. She nodded in response.

They ran back towards where the doe and her kittens where. The moment they arrived within sight and scent, Seed rushed towards her. Useth watched them nuzzle with trembling muscles.

_I don't know why I'm so upset,_ she thought, turning her head away. _After all…I always knew I was just a friend to him._

She found her words a comfort, but it all went away when she saw Seed point at her and say out loud, "This is Haini, my mate. Haini, this is Useth. S-she's…she's like a sister to me."

At which point she knew that she truly loved him.


	36. 

** 36**

She watched them be happy with their newfound family, cooing and cuddling the kittens and each other and caring little for the rest of the world. And by this she felt the strength she had carried slowly wane away. The strong, confident Useth had lost her shell. One night, she wept. Her heart flooded with tears.

But in front of them, the face she kept up was more than enough to hide the feelings she harboured. Aye, even then, it was a face that was bound to reality, for she and Seed had always been friends, and even now, they still were. When he wasn't busy with his family, they were together, scouting the land here and there, finding the best spots for _flay_…it was during these times that her sadness was forgotten, and she fell into the trap of continuously loving him.

"Useth," he told her one night, when they were some distance away from the den, patrolling for the fun of it. They had sheltered beneath a tall tree and the stars were quite visible in between its branches. He had been in deep thought for the past hour or so, and only found the voice to speak now.

"Hmmm?" she asked, opening one eye. She was crouching beside the roots, concealed behind the shadows. She turned to him. He was sitting a few meters away, staring up the sky.

"I…I never told you b-b-efore…" he muttered. "Or anyone else b-b-but Lang-it."

"Told me what?"

He watched the leaves sway as the wind passed by, and took a deep breath. "I…I'm cursed."

She flicked her ears, confused.

"The Black Rabbit_, _Useth." He looked at her and furrowed his brows. "Since I was born."

She did not reply for a moment, and he, he didn't care. He'd expected this, even from her. The subject was too ridiculous to consider. Even those who knew more about it than he did claimed it weren't true.

Finally, she spoke. "Who told you?" 

"Timothy," he said, looking down. The grass was grey. There was no moonlight. "And…and…and Primrose."

"And how do you know it's true?"

He flicked his ears back. "Because. They all died." He sighed. "Ghost. My grandmother. My mother. Juniper. Half of Primrose-rah. T-Timothy. Primrose. L-L-L…Lang-it…" His voice trembled at each name, each of them a dagger that tore open the old wounds in his heart. "Useth," he whispered. "That is…that is my curse."

"Seed, they all died, but it's not even your fault."

"Useth, it torments me," he said. He faced her once more, his eyes locking into hers. She, looking at him, could see the sadness cloud his eyes, and knew at once that he was more serious than she had ever known him to be. "It still does. I dream, Useth. Of the…of the…of the black rabbit. He…he hates me, Useth. H-h-he means to torture me…until my death…"

"Dreams?"

"And…and reality. That i-i-incident with…with Dewdrops." 

Useth sat up at the mention of the rabbit's name. "You stopped in front of the road. _Tharn_. Why?"

"The black rabbit," he said, and began to breathe hard. "He…i-it was him."

She was silent once more. He sat back and waited for her to laugh. It was inevitable. Anyone would ridicule him.

So it was to his utmost surprise when she drew near to him and leaned against his muzzle. "He bothers you?" she asked, nuzzling him softly. "Even now…?"

He nodded, too touched to speak.

"Seed, you still…you still have Haini." A pang of jealousy hit her, but she swallowed it down with dignity. "And the kittens." She wanted to add, _and me_. She didn't. She thought that if he had to know, he already knew, and if he didn't, then there was no need.

"H-he tells me…each day…t-t-hat I w-w-ill lose them…" His eyes suddenly seemed dark and heavy.

"Each day?"

"I l-l-lost those dreams and v-visions for a bit…until the k-kittens were born…" He swallowed. "A-a-and then…"

The night wind passed by again, and he shivered.

"L-last night, he appeared. H-he…he held out his claws over Samphire. A-and smiled. I-it was the w-w-worst. I thought I w-woke up, and Samphire was c-crying."

"He always cries," Useth sighed. "Seed…"

"U-Useth, there was blood on him." Seed swallowed. "B-blood." He scratched the ground with one paw. "B-b-but…but there was no w-w-wound. None."

"The other kittens?"

"N-none. Neither Haini."

"I believe you," she said, touching his shoulder with her nose. "Seed. You know I do. Have you told Haini yet?"

"The blood disappeared b-b-before she saw it." He fell down into a crouch and covered his muzzle with a paw. "I…she…I-I-don't know if I'll ever…tell…"

He broke down into a sob. "Oh Seed," she muttered, and, carefully, she lay on top of him, covering his head with hers. He felt cold to her touch. "Oh Seed, so this is what's been bothering you all along," she said in the faintest of whispers, as if she was talking to no one but herself. "Just rest for now, Seed. The black rabbit won't get you here…"

"He…" he began, but she licked his muzzle, and that silenced him.

"Not here, not when I'm here."

He gave a sigh and closed his eyes. "Not while I'm here," she repeated, almost as a lullaby. "He'll have to go through me first before he gets to you, my friend…"

"Useth…?" he asked, half-asleep.

"Yes?"

"We'll always be friends, w-w-won't we…?"

Her paw found his, and she held it against the ground, the warmth penetrating through. She smiled. "Always."

"…always…" he muttered, his consciousness drifting off.

***

Heather stood by the edge of the field, battle-scarred and deep-chested, cutting a magnificent figure amidst the small band of rugged but weary rabbits. He was looking eastwards, eyes taking in every little detail of the terrain beyond him. For the past few weeks, the young leader had been mapping his new territory with an enthusiasm greater than any patroller's. The land lay of Nur-Lath had been big and it had amused him greatly—a good hobby, he'd once said, while he waited for news from Hemlock.

"Sir…"

He turned and stared at the newcomer. "Anemone, or I be wrong?" he responded.

The other rabbit stiffened. "Thou art right, sir," came the quickly reply. "Anemone of the Patrols, First Class Lone Patroller, under direct command of Captain Thistle…"

Heather lowered his head and burst out laughing. He stopped after a moment to take a good look at Anemone. The rabbit seemed indignant at his sudden outburst and was pouring all of his fury at the surrounding grass by his feet. "Forgive me, mae boyo," Heather said, standing up and walking past the suddenly quiet rabbit. "T'is the fact that formalities are off mae' knowin'." He grinned. "Though I suppose t'is needed f'er ye tae be kept in line. Hark! Ye' take orders from me, an' no one else." He drew his face close to the other rabbit's and snorted air off his nostrils. "Understand?"

"Clearly, sir," Anemone replied, closing his eyes. Heather could hear the quick thumping of his heart.

"Now, what were ye' goin' tae tell me?"

"The rabbits are exhausted, sir. They say they need shelter and food." Anemone continued to close his eyes as he spoke. He did not have the nerve to face Heather at this state.

"Complainin'?" Heather asked. "Or worse?"

Anemone chose not to speak.

"I see," Heather muttered. "Very well, mae boyo. Run along an' rest now. I'll see tae this mae' self." He left Anemone behind and trotted off for the short undergrowth where the rest of the patrol was in hiding. The rabbits all sat up as he approached, but he regarded this with contempt instead of pleasure.

"I want tae' make somethin' clear," he said, circling the small group. "When ye' want somethin'…" He lifted his head and drew a deep breath. "Ye' tell me. Ye' din' crap behind mae back!" 

The rabbits cringed.

"Now, off ye' go! There, there, that direction, ye' fools! I dinnae be getting' angry very oft'n, so next time this happens, ye'll be sure tae' remember it." Heather drew a deep sigh and followed them as they started forward. Anemone tracked in close beside him.

"Aren't thou supposed to be heading back to the warren by the morrow?" Anemone asked, whiskers grazing close to Heather's muzzle. "We have been too far away for too long."

"I'm expectin' another patrol tae be meetin' us here," said Heather. "We'll be leavin' when they hae arrived." He sighed. "How long hae we been gone?"

"Half an Inlé I suppose, sir," Anemone replied.

Heather sighed again. "Din' ye' hae' a family tae go back to?"

Anemone stopped in his tracks to give Heather a good hard stare. "Well…" he stammered. "I suppose so. But they are not too close to me, as thou shouldst know." He paused again, unsure as to what to make of things. When Heather had arrived, he had placed his mark down as a firm and gracious tyrant. Getting emotional was the last thing he expected of him.

Heather suddenly gave a sharp laugh, which broke his amazement. "The does ought tae be waitin' f'er us, mae boyo! Onward then! Och, t'is amazin' how a famous Owsla warren like yers could hae such slow patrollers!"

The rabbit burst into a lollop, seemingly joyous and light-headed for a moment, but it was all a sham. His whole being was enveloped in worry and even though he wanted to finish the patrol thoroughly, he would have given anything to come home to that little grey doe that held his heart.

***

They were arguing. The kittens could hear it through the walls just as well as Useth could, and to prevent them from getting anymore upset, she coddled them close. Samphire was up to his usual tantrums and was butting her ribs with his head.

"Stop it, young buck," Useth said in a low tone, but it was useless. Kittens as young as Samphire weren't prone to talking…they didn't know how. She gave a deep sigh and held him against the ground firmly with one paw. "She doesn't understand, does she?" she asked to no one in particular while Samphire struggled hard against her strength. "I don't either but…"

She turned her head towards the run leading to the other burrow where Seed and Haini were. "…but…I try to…"

Samphire gave a feeble whimper.

She released him and licked his nose. The kitten drew back, snorting and shaking his head in protest. "That's the bad thing, Samphire. With us rabbits. No one really loves the rabbits they mate with."

Samphire sneezed.

"At least, they rarely do. Wouldn't matter if they didn't claim they did." She gave a deep sigh and curled tightly around the kittens. "Well, let's sleep then. If I know Seed, he won't stand to argue for long. Your parents will be alright."

In the other burrow, Seed's own feelings had gone berserk. He had told Haini straight on, and the first thing she had retorted was that it was stupid. At first, he said that, true, it was, but it was affecting him, and that was when her rage exploded and she said he didn't think he was _that_ weak, and at that point _he_ grew angry and the argument began. It hadn't gone on very long…by the time Useth had fallen asleep, fifteen minutes later, Haini could not stand it any more and had marched out of the burrow. Seed, too angry and confused, stayed behind.

_ Ugh, I can't believe I fell for that sort of buck…_ Haini sighed and paused in front of the burrow where Useth slept, sniffing. _ At least the kittens are okay._ She gave another sigh and looked back at Seed's direction. _He's better than most bucks in some ways. But he doesn't act like one. A buck wouldn't cry. A buck would fight._

She stopped from her thoughts to pick up one of her kittens which had strayed to the entrance. It was one of the females, the smallest one. "Let's go for a walk, my darling," she said, tickling the kitten's nose with her whiskers. The kitten gave a giggle.

She smiled and picked her up. With a huff, she walked out into the surface.

Haini and her kitten went a bit far, down the hill to sit next to a small stream trickling down over the side. She set the kitten on the ground and watched as she distractedly began to play with the grass. It was fu-Inlé. The moon was at its zenith and it gave the place a cool, grey sort of light which at the moment she found pleasing.

She ate and thought, of everything but Seed. Thought about how lonely she truly was. For a moment, she wished she were with her father again. Dog's-Tail. She knew she was just one of his many children…Frith, the whole warren _was_ his children…and she did not remember a day when he picked her out special among the rest. Always, she knew, when he looked past the many faces of the kittens that excitedly waited for him to finish his story, she was nothing more than one of them to him. But that did not matter. She had always admired him, since the day her mother had pointed him out while he was in the midst of a storytelling and said, "That's your father." And now that she felt alone, she wished she could have known him better, before he left. It was one of the things in life that she regretted.

There was a rustle of grass behind her.

"Sweetie, don't be so noi…" she began, turning around. Before she had a chance to react, a huge rabbit came up to her and clamped a heavy jaw around her neck.

Her scream wailed up through the night sky.

***

"Haini…" Useth cried with a start. She had been waiting outside for the doe to return and it seemed for the moment that something out of the ordinary had happened. She could tell by the way an owl rustled past, seemingly headed for somewhere. And she thought, _she thought_, she heard her scream…

"Haini!" Seed cried, panting and shooting out of the burrow at once. He looked at Useth with whitened eyes. "Did you hear…? Did you…?" He buried his head on her chest. "D-d-did you…?"

"Seed…"

"He…h-he…"

"Seed, let's save her." Useth nudged the rabbit with her nose. "Seed, come on."

They fled off towards the direction the owl had taken.

Useth sprang first through the bushes and was met with a sickening sight. Haini lay on the ground. Blood covered the grass around her. Her head was severed from her body.

She had no time to cry, for now she noticed, too, a small group of rugged-looking rabbits clustered around the body. One noticed her presence and gave out a loud curse. A rabbit headed towards her.

She was prepared. The rabbit, having just seen a weak doe get killed in one bite, was not. He lunged for her and was totally surprised when she sidestepped and bit a chunk off his shoulder.

"What in Inlé…" the rabbit roared.

She cut him off by a kick across his other side.

He did not seem moved, however. Though Useth had advantage at first, the tables quickly turned as he reached for her. Useth backed up but found a tree behind her, blocking her path. She had no choice but to fight a close range battle.

Seeing the heavy, scarred rabbit made her situation grim.

He slammed his paw across her. Blood ran down her chin and she felt as if her head had just shattered. But she stood her ground and when she had gotten over the initial shock of the blow, she went down low and aimed a cuff below his neck.

He stepped back to avoid her. And as he did so, a rabbit appeared from the bushes and rammed against him, hard. He fell back, and so did the rabbit.

"Useth, what's the…" the rabbit began, lifting his head. And froze.

"Seed, don't look," she began, but it was too late. The moon seemed to shine directly onto the body. It still lay there, untouched, the eyes wide and staring.

"H-H-Haini…" Seed gasped.

The rabbit they were fighting with gave Seed a quick cuff, which sent him crashing against the bush.

"Not now!" Useth screamed, butting hard against the larger rabbit. She began an onslaught of quick kicks and bites, which made the rabbit walk away in an attempt to avoid her. At this moment, she nudged Seed hard and cried, "Let's get out of here!"

"No…" Seed muttered. He lowered his head. "N-n-no…"

"Seed…"

The rabbit snarled and whirled back at Seed. This time, Seed met him head on. The two rabbits began to barter blows, cursing and frothing at the mouth.

"Seed! Seed, let's retreat!" Useth cried, unable to do anything but watch.

"My family…" Seed cried. His voice was that of a spirit in despair, wailing. He closed his eyes and shivered. "Not now…not now…!"

He flew at his opponent again with increased rage. The other rabbit suddenly found himself in a helpless position as Seed's attacks seemed to intensify. Finally, unable to stand it, he gave a roar and stepped back towards his companions, bleeding from head to toe. It was the first battle Seed ever won.

But Useth did not give him time to revel in his triumph. She quickly pushed against him, crying, "Let's go!" Seed, shaken from his bloodlust, followed her, limping slightly.

"After them!" one of the rabbits cried. "Din' let them escape…"

There was a nod of agreement from the rest, but before any of them could move a muscle, another rabbit appeared out of the darkness. It was a rabbit no bigger than any of them, quite smaller than a few, in fact, but there was no mistaking who it was.

"Heather…" the rabbit that'd fought Useth and Seed said.

Heather looked at them. This was the small patrol he'd been talking about. Anemone had reported seeing a group of rugged Northlanders around the area and he'd gone off to meet them, knowing exactly who they were.

He lifted his head and regarded the scene. The gruesome body that lay by the stream, and the wounds on one of the rabbits. His whiskers seemed to curl up as he faced the leader of the patrol. "Mullein, I'd appreciate it if ye'r goin' tae explain tae me."

"We dinnae be wantin' tae be spotted by any warren," the rabbit said. "The last thing we be needin' is another by our trail a'fore we hae gathered forces f'er Hemlock. So we killed her an' be done with it."

"An' there were another two, we be havin' tae chase them as well," another rabbit broke in. "They're goin' tae raise the alarm on us."

Heather sighed. "Nae, leave them be," he said.

The rabbits looked at him in alarm. "Heather, that's not like ye'…" Mullein began.

"I said, leave them be," Heather repeated. "We'll be long aways before they try tae chase us. We'll just cover our tracks like we ought tae." He was too homesick to risk any more delay. Lang-it was waiting for him, in a not so very far place. It was too near and he wanted to be back soon.

He was about to walk off when a faint whimpering echoed from the grass.

"Aye, there be a kitten too…" Mullein remarked, pointing at it. "I din' know what tae do with it. We dinnae be killin' kittens, ye' know…_they_ can't be raisin' alarms…"

Heather walked towards it, ignoring the body that lay by its side. He sniffed. The kitten was young, not even weaned. He stood staring at it for a long time, contemplating something. "T'is a long shot," he said, as if speaking to himself. With another sigh, he picked the kitten up and walked off. _But it might be worth it._

The other rabbits exchanged glances before following him. As they disappeared from the site, the owl gave a hoot and soared downwards to claim its prize.


	37. 

** 37**

The first place he went to was the burrow where the kittens slept, where he buried his nose against the crook of Samphire's neck and cried in agony. Useth crouched by the entrance and waited, watching the battered rabbit rock his kitten back and forth, the trembling of his body too fierce to contain.

When he finally fell asleep, she crawled towards him and began to nurse his wounds. For a moment, she had the impulse to lift her head and stare at the run in front of her, but decided not to. Had she done it, she might have seen the black shadow of a rabbit pass by. The only thing she noticed was the sudden draft that enveloped the air.

As she cleaned the blood off his fur, her thoughts were churning. What did Seed ever do to deserve all this? Maybe it _was_ true that the Black Rabbit had singled him out and turned towards him the worst of misfortunes. But why? She withdrew her tongue and lightly caressed Seed's head with her own. "Whatever this is," she said to herself. "Frith, You better have a good reason. You better."

***

"Samphire…" Seed muttered. "He's growing weaker. They all are."

Useth did not look up from where she had been cleaning Samphire's coat. She knew what Seed meant. The kittens had no milk for the past day, nor anything else to eat. She had tried, after a bit of tinkering, to regurgitate some grass for them, but it only got into their noses and ended up creating more problems than it solved. She even tried feeding them pellets, to no avail.

Their attempts to save the kittens were unnatural, but could have worked no better otherwise. Samphire's constant crying had gone down, and the mighty kicks he used to be able to conjure turned into struggling. Seed, watching Useth clean the muck off the kitten's pale, smooth face, could stand it no longer and marched off. He did not appear again for the rest of the day.

He arrived by dawn, and Useth greeted him without a word. The two females lay dead by the corner of the burrow. Seed ignored them. He went straight to Samphire and in a way that few bucks were known to do, he pulled the kitten against his body and begun to hum a lullaby. Useth sat beside them, her face downcast.

"_Hyao, a laynt rooli,"_ he muttered. "Once. I wish I never grew up."

"Would it have mattered?" she asked. "Life is as tough to kittens as to us."

"Yes," he replied, nuzzling Samphire. "But they face it with innocence and joy. When I started to understand things, I grew only more confused." He did not look up and continued to murmur soft words of comfort to the dying kitten.

"Sleep, my son…shhhhh…sleep…"

The calmness in his attitude was unnerving. Useth placed a paw on his shoulder and was hurt when he did not even regard her.

"I will never have children again," Seed said.

She flinched. "That's not true. You will find another doe, and another, and you will have children worthy of Elahrairah's presence…"

"No, he told me." He used his nose to remove dirt from Samphire's nose. "He told me I would never have children again. And he never lies…"

She lowered her head and sighed.

"He's cold now," Seed muttered.

She looked up and watched as Seed tenderly placed the kitten on the ground and gaze at him. "He…h-h-he's d-d-dead…" he said, breaking into his stutter once more. He crouched down. "M-my son. M-my o-only s-s-son…"

Shaking, he crawled up to her and buried his face into the only comfort left to him in the world. She welcomed him gladly. As he slowly began to ease his way into despair, a thought flickered in his mind, the one thing that blocked his complete passage into madness, but by then his troubles engulfed him to a point where he no longer cared.


	38. 

** 38**

"_Hoi, hlessil!_ What ye' be doin' intae our part o' the world?" Moonwort called. A smug grin was plastered on his face as he bounded towards Heather and greeted him with the same frank informality that Nizorn rabbits embraced. His excited behaviour diminished the moment he saw the half-dead bundle Heather was carrying.

Heather placed the bundle by his foot and gave Moonwort a stern look. "Quick, mae friend. Find any doe in the warren that's nursin' kittens. Din' delay."

Moonwort didn't question him. With a nod, the rabbit set off at full speed. Heather watched him go before turning to the rest of his patrol. "Ye'r all free until I call ye. Go back tae ye'r does. Ye lot hae' proven ye'rselves an' any kittens ye'll be sirin' are bound tae be strong."

The bucks looked at each other. For the length of time they have known Heather, they had learned to take his every single word seriously. Nodding, they each broke off for different directions. Only Mullein remained, watching Heather lick the kitten's entire body. "What will ye' be doin' with that runt?" he asked, after a while.

Heather did not answer.

"Ye' love that doe," Mullein answered for him. "Ye love her, din' ye?"

Heather gave him a grin. "Ye ask questions ye answer later. Will ye be wantin' a wall an' not me?"

Mullein shook his head. "T'is just a concern. T'is not normal f'er ye tae be houndin' over a doe when t'is not her matin' time. Just what are ye gettin' out o' this?"

"Just what am I getting' out o this?" Heather repeated, turning the kitten over and licking her nostrils. 

"I'm concerned. This might affect our warren's growth."

"As far as I'm concerned, I hae' taken over the warren Hemlock wanted me to, an' supervisin' the breedin' as far as it goes. Anythin' else he has in mind he an' Centaury shall hae' tae do." He turned the kitten over again. "Frankly, so long as our warren din' lose, whether they find an' capture all those Primrose-rah rabbits or not, I din' be carin'."

He did not notice the look of disappointment that Mullein gave him as the rabbit hopped away. He was more concerned of trying to make sure the kitten would survive all the way back to the warren.

When she was clean, and dampened by his tongue, he picked her up and continued on his way. Moonwort met him by the edge of the gap. "I've found a doe. She's willin' tae nurse it."

They visited the doe in her burrow, where Heather dropped the kitten beside her. She had considerately piled her other kittens by the corner, sleeping. "Come here, thou little one," the doe said, picking the kitten up and setting it near one of her teats. The kitten gave a weak mewl. It did not suckle.

Heather looked helplessly at the doe. "Please," he said. "Dinnae be anythin' ye can do?"

The doe shook her head. "She is too weak, and she knows not my scent. The only doe that can save her is her own mother."

She stood and walked back to her own kittens.

Heather gave a cry. He picked the tiny kitten up, stared at Moonwort, and seemed like he was about to kill it for a moment.

"Bring it tae' her, anyway," Moonwort said, seeing the look in Heather's face. "She's…at least make her happy, f'er a bit, even just f'er a bit."

Heather's grip on the kitten relaxed.

"Just f'er a bit," Moonwort said, slinking low across the run. He led the way towards Lang-it's burrow. Heather followed behind, doubting and hoping at the same time.

His eyes softened at the sight of her, sleeping. "She be beautiful, din' she?" Heather said in a low voice, caressing the lithe grey muzzle.

Moonwort nodded. "Always a bonnie lass," he said, watching the emaciated doe that seemed to appear on the verge of death each passing day. She used to be a princess…a goddess. Now, only he and Heather continued to believe that.

"Wake up, mae love," Heather crooned, pawing at Lang-it's side. Moonwort gave a sigh and withdrew from the burrow, leaving them alone.

Lang-it opened her eyes. "Heather," she said. A weak smile tugged the edges of her lips. At times, it was easy to see the old attitude she always had. Heather felt like she was trapped...like a woodland in broad daylight, where the sun could shine in only in certain places beneath the foliage. 

"Look what I brought ye'," he said softly. He nudged the kitten towards her. It gave a small whimper, but lay quite still.

He saw her eyes widen. Slowly, she placed her muzzle on the kitten's pale body and breathed into it. The kitten mewled once more.

It was as if that short meeting was enough to satisfy her. She got up, her haunches shaking in a weak attempt to support her, and fell down once more, right beside the kitten. She nudged it against her belly and began to lick it all over.

Heather watched. The gentleness by which she handled the kitten absorbed him. No doe of his had ever made him feel at home like she did. He wished he had seen his own kittens alive. Their kittens. They would have made him a prouder father than he could have ever hoped for.

His eyes flickered. He did not want to sleep yet…he knew the kitten would die, and he wanted to see her happy even just for the last time. But he had driven himself to the edge just trying to get it here alive, and now he was exhausted. Without his consent, he fell into a deep sleep. 

When he woke up, she was grooming him.

"Lang-it…" he muttered drowsily. He lifted his head, wanting to comfort her, to hold her in his paws. "I…"

"Shhh, ye'll disturb 'er," she said, half-mockingly.

Heather's whiskers flinched. Lang-it…Lang-it was smiling. A bright smile. The one he'd known before winter came, _the one he'd fallen in love with_. He turned down and saw the kitten grunting, her muzzle buried into his doe's belly as she kicked and pulled, suckling.

"Bite me," he muttered. "Bite me, girl. T'is too unbelievable tae'…oh Hemlock's ass!" He jerked his head back, his nose red. Lang-it had drawn her face close to his and bitten him just as he asked her to.

She laughed.

"Ye din' hae milk!" he protested. "T'is been…Lang-it…"

She shook her head. "Don't question. Frith has His ways. They told me that."

"Who told you?"

"Shh, don't be so loud. She's full. She's going to sleep." Just as she said, the kitten jerked her head back and burped. With a sigh, the kitten crawled towards her forepaws and curled up. Her belly was bloated. There was a soft smile on her face.

Heather chuckled and draped his paw across Lang-it's shoulder, pulling her towards him. "Welcome back, mae lass," he said, nuzzling the fur on her chest. She looked more radiant already. "Now that she's eaten, din' ye think t'is time ye' do the same?"

"As long as ye'r wi' me," she said, leaning against him with her eyes closed.

"Ye' got that accent all right, girl. Now all ye' need is some hard muscle an' a big bum an' ye'll be as fancy as a Nizorn doe."

She drew back and playfully bit him. With a laugh, Heather bounded out of the burrow. She set the kitten aside and shakily ran after him.

"We be namin' her Hy-lien," he said, stopping to allow Lang-it to catch up to him.

She leaned against him, panting for breath, and thought for a moment. She looked up at him and gave him a close-eyed smile. "Shines my home," she said. "She does, doesn't she?"

"Nay. Ye'." He kissed her on the nose. "Both o' ye." He kissed her again. "F'er all o' eternity."

***

"Hemlock, ye' ole' bastard!" Heather cried, running out to meet his brother. "Ye look positively gorgeous with that scar o' yers. Hit ye'r head on a pole now, did ye'? I always thought ye were blind."

Hemlock laughed as they touched noses. Behind him, a large group of rabbits called aloud to him. "The family's lookin' good, mae brother," Heather said, hopping towards them. "Hi, hi. Ye kittens…"

Three young rabbits had gone up to greet him. "Kittens? We be no kittens. We're y'er sons!" they exclaimed. 

"Thnieve's been missin ye', ye old bastard," Hemlock said, motioning over to Heather. "An' as f'er ye'r other does, well, ye' take lots o' does, they take lots o' bucks." He playfully cuffed his brother. "These sons ye hae, I hae watched over mae self. Thnieve's, mind ye. The rest o' y'er kittens are dead. A lot o' our rabbits are dead." Suddenly, the smile on Hemlock's face was gone. He looked old. Heather, at this point, realized the problems that Nizorn had faced since the blow by Primrose-rah and the harsh winter following it.

"We hae' lost more than half o' our rabbits, eh?" Heather looked over the group once more and realized that a lot of familiar faces were gone. Many of the rabbits were half-grown like his sons. The rest were does and some of the weaker bucks. Centaury approached him and shook his head.

"Aye, well, we hae tried to get the best out o' what we got," he said. He lowered his voice and watched as Hemlock walked off to meet some of the Nizorners assigned to Heather. "He won't admit it, but Primrose-rah, it be strong. An' they hae a lot o' rabbits. An'…" He sighed. "They say the Chief fought like a monster. He…he killed a lot o' what was left from the first battle…"

Heather licked his lips. "So Hemlock be afraid?"

Centaury did not answer and left him.

He watched him join Hemlock. "So this be what the great Nizorn hae become…" he said in a low voice.

"Aye, but our spirits remain still," one of his grown kittens said. He looked over at them once more. They did not look at all like him, with their every feature reflecting upon their strong, sturdily-built mother. For a quick moment, he was proud, and then it passed him by and he now looked at them no more than an ordinary rabbit might look at newfound friends. He had sired them—his fatherhood had ended there.

"Y'er name?" he asked, tipping his head towards the young rabbit that spoke.

"Leek," the rabbit replied, scratching the ruff around his neck.

"Gather them up an' hae Moonwort escort ye' tae ye'r burrows." He nodded and trotted towards Centaury and Hemlock. The worried looks that seemed to have encompassed the Nizorn leaders' faces had passed. They were back to the old rabbits he knew, confident and happy.

"I take it ye' like mae warren?" Heather asked, swaggering over to Hemlock. He shook his head and chuckled. "T'is mighty tough tae enter the Owsla."

"Look at this ingrate," Hemlock exclaimed, facing Centaury. Raising a heavy paw, he cuffed Heather soundly across the back. "We _are_ the Owsla, hae' ye forgotten, Heather? Nae other rabbits but Owsla."

Heather lay flat across his back from Hemlock's cuff, and did not seem in the least bothered about it. He kicked his hind legs across the air and cheerily replied, "Mae brothers, I hae separated the Owsla from the non-Owsla. What ye' shall be doin' with the last bit, I leave up tae ye."

"Kill them…?" Centaury asked, rubbing his paws across his muzzle.

Hemlock shook his head. "Get on ye'r feet, Heather, an' start showin' me around mae warren. I take it t'is mine?"

"I'd hate tae be the rabbit tae take ye'r warren away from ye'," Heather replied, jumping up and giving a quick bow. "Let us be startin' with the basics, shall we, mae boyos? Burrows…"

***

Before the day of Nizorn's arrival had ended, the warren which was once Nur-Lath, the Warren Beyond the Skies, began to show signs of Hemlock's takeover. He was, unlike Heather, meticulous. For instance, whence Heather had basically left the Owsla as its predecessors had arranged, Hemlock took the time to get to know most of his commanding officers and fixed their ranks according to his whim. And, in a way that very few Chief Rabbits would have bothered to do, he got himself acquainted with the commoners and the local ways, allowing his rules to bend so that their traditions would not be hampered. In short, he had redefined the enter place to his own liking, and surprisingly, not a lot of the rabbits complained, and those that did, did so in silence.

***

Heather was in total exhaustion. Introducing Hemlock and Centaury to the warren life wasn't easy. Half of the time, Hemlock had been too distracted to listen, by which he had to repeat himself all over again, much to his frustration. He was glad that the main part was mostly over. Dawn had arrived and he was feeding. Hemlock stood in a corner, issuing orders to Centaury, no doubt. Or making some sort of unfunny joke. Either way, Centaury didn't look too pleased, and a minute later, he nodded and stormed off.

"How bad can findin' me a nice, young doe be?" Hemlock asked, trudging towards him. Heather lifted his ears and gave his brother a disturbed look.

"Tsah!" Hemlock snorted. "T'is just mae way o' gettin' rid o' him so I could talk tae ye in private. About the Owsla…I'm wantin' the trainin' for them tae begin tomorrow. These lads are good material alright, but I be wantin' them tae be at their toughest." He nodded his head firmly.

"All this f'er those Primrose-rah _hlessi_?" Heather asked.

Hemlock sighed. "I want them," he said, lifting his lips to expose his huge incisors. "Dead, all of them. Dead or mae slaves."

Heather cringed. Hemlock had never talked like this before. If he knew Hemlock, the rabbit had always voted for near-equality…but now…? There was a faraway look in his brother's eyes. He found it disconcerting.

"Hemlock…" he started.

The hefty Chief snorted and stood up, his body stiffened. Jaws clenched, the rabbit lunged through the air, aiming his paws as if to cuff an imaginary enemy. "Och," he said, turning his body sideways and snapping his teeth. "He was ferocious. I could nae had dreamt o' meetin' some_thin'_ like him. I din' realize it then, but he defeated me. _Nizorn._" He leaped across the air and landed beside Heather. His whiskers twitched. "But I dream o' it now. Many nights, it be hauntin' me." He sighed in resignation and looked towards his brother. "He was bleedin' from the neck. Anythin' would hae' died. But not he."

"So ye' think that destroyin' his rabbits would prove ye hae defeated him?" It was an honest question. There was no hint of sarcasm in Heather's tone.

Hemlock nodded. 

Heather flicked his ears, unable to say anything else. This was a Hemlock he did not know. 

Hemlock suddenly laughed. "Methinks I'm turnin' intae an idiot. Heather! What I meant was that Primrose-rah dinnae be the only warren I'm takin'. There be our grandfather's old warren, Quieflain, an' Forest. There be Inléthlay, those bastards that hae helped Primrose-rah durin' the war. I'm expandin' mae father's dream, ye' see?"

"He wanted revenge," Heather said, below his breath. "All ye wanted was a place f'er our rabbits tae live in peace."

"Aye, but that was before," Hemlock replied.

"Hemlock…I'm ye'r Captain o' Owsla, din' I?" Heather asked, after a moment of silence. He lifted his head.

Hemlock nodded.

"An' let me guess…ye prefer nae other?"

Hemlock's whiskers curled. "Ye know me better than mae own feet. What is it ye want?"

"I'll continue tae be ye'r Captain, an' raise ye' an army stronger an' fitter than any these lands hae ever seen," Heather answered. He stood and faced Hemlock. "I will build ye' a great realm, but under the condition that I din' be fightin'."

Hemlock's eyes flickered. "What?"

"I din' be fightin' on ye'r war-battles," Heather repeated. "I'll personally make sure ye'r Captains an' Owsla are in top-shape, but the moment ye hae raised war, I am stayin' behind."

"That be Centaury's job," his brother replied. He did not look too pleased. "I was countin' on ye'r help."

"Well, let Centaury do my job by then," he countered.

"What reason do ye' have f'er this? Ye love battles. Ye were always the one wantin' tae fight with me when we were kits."

Heather gave a wry smile. "I'm nae longer a kit. I'm grown. Mae priorities hae changed. Ye shall hae ye'r warriors when ye' want them. But I shall hae tae stay behind."

"Very well," Hemlock sighed, his brows furrowed. "I was countin' on ye but…I can manage."

"I know ye' can," Heather remarked, and nudged his brother's muzzle with his nose. "Well, the sun's risin' higher. I'm off tae sleep."

He turned and lolloped towards the nearest hole, towards his burrow. Lang-it was sleeping inside. Hy-lien was awake and staring at him with wide open eyes.

"Call me a sap," he said to the kitten, who was far too young to talk back. "But I'm doin' this f'er ye'r mother, alright? The sooner I retire from this Owsla gig, the sooner I'll be happy." He poked the kitten's nose with his and crouched down beside his doe.

The moment his body relaxed in lieu for sleep, a cold draft began to make its way into the burrow. Hy-lien, unaware and unperturbed, gave a yelp and bounded for the warm space against Lang-it's breast. She fell asleep, even as the _ thirf-nroz, _its eyes as red as blood, appeared in the form of the Black Rabbit, and lifted its paw to touch her…

Lang-it's eyes opened. "Away," she said, gritting her teeth. "You taunted him, but not her."

It hissed.

"Go, before I wake _him_ up, and my mate can deal with ye' better than I can."

_ Thirf-nrozil _thrived in the dark, in the concealed. Faced with a doe aware of its presence, the _thirf-nroz_ could do nothing else but disintegrate back into the darkness that it was, but not before cursing _her_…

"_Queen? Hah!_" Its voice rang in her mind. "_You'll have nothing by the time we're done with you_…"

But she shrugged it off and went back to sleep, forgetting about the incident, knowing nothing more but the familiar drone of Heather's deep snores.

***

Hemlock, staring at the sky, bit his lip and strode down the run for his own burrow. _I'm stronger than he. Glazed-eyed fool. I could hae' beat him. I could hae'…_

He stopped in the middle of the tunnel and crouched down. _If only I hadn't been afraid…_

He shook his head and fiercely walked on. _I'll show him,_ he thought. _I'll be Chief o' his warren, an' o' all the warrens he'd known. _It was done. His resolve was strengthened. At the very moment, nothing anyone could do would have extinguished the burning rage in his soul.


	39. The Ascension

** Part 5: The Ascension **

** 39**

"Where are we going, Seed?"

Spring was nearly ended. During the past weeks, she had asked the same question for more times than she cared to remember. By now, it was only a ritual, one with which he would reply with no more than a casual turn to her direction and a quick, undaunted glare. Today, she got the same response. She sighed and stopped behind him, letting him out of her sight while she stopped to lick raindrops off a grass leaf and chew it thoughtfully. She could follow him later.

As it continued to pour, she felt that same sort of emptiness inside again. Seed had, since Haini's death, ceased to become the companion she had always known. He had turned cold, towards her, towards everything. The menial talk that they had enjoyed in the past had turned into silence, and it came to a point where it was days before he would utter a word to her, and often then, only a word.

"Useth…"

She looked up. He had traced back across his trail and was looking at her now from over the scrub, the rain soaking through his coat and dripping down his face. If her heart was empty, then so were his eyes. She knew they were both lost.

"Oh Seed, you'll get a cold at this state," she said, venturing over to him to lick the water off his chin. He jerked his head slightly, but did not speak. After a moment, he hopped off again, and this time she followed. 

He had left the exact day after Samphire's death, and where he was headed, she could never seem to figure out. It was not a set sort of course that he followed—rather, it seemed they were almost in a mode of non-stop wandering.

When early morning arrived, the rain ceased, and they stopped to rest beneath the thick undergrowth. Useth stayed awake long after Seed's eyes had closed, her own watchful ones guarding his sleep. It was the only time that he was familiar to her. She daren't miss it.

A few hours went by, and Seed awoke. The rain had fallen once more, and the cold penetrated through his fur. He stood and shook his coat before hopping towards the nearest blade of grass and nibbling on it. Useth was sleeping nearby. He watched her while he ate, his mind void of thoughts. She looked so peaceful, sleeping. He daren't wake her up.

But she did, anyway, as if his scrutinizing gaze had reached into her dreams and pulled her away. She stretched her paws and gave him one long, sleepy look, her eyelids half closed. He shook his fur again and continued to chew on the grass.

She got up and hopped a few feet away from him and began to feed as well. Seed, though he kept his head down, could not keep her completely away from his sight. He watched her carefully through the corner of his eyes, his chin dribbling with rain water. 

After a while, he felt full, and sat up, cleaning the wet fur on his face. "That warren. A…a few months back," he said suddenly. She looked up. It was his first full sentence in days.

She opened her mouth in reply, but he cut her off. "No, wait. Let me finish. You…y-you remember that warren. W-we were patrolling. We stayed there for a day."

She nodded.

He looked around before continuing. "T-this…this rabbit there told me…about a place…southeast of here. He…he said there was a huge…river…he called it a lake."

She furrowed her brows questioningly, unsure of where he was getting at.

Seed flinched, looked around again, and sighed. "D-D-Dewdrops…r-remember. We were heading for that direction before…we're going there now. To meet up with Primrose-rah."

"How sure are you that they'll be there…?" she asked.

He turned back to the grass and started to nibble on it again. He did not answer her question.

She sighed and turned back to her own food, knowing better than to push him. He had made up his mind, and though she wasn't sure what his plans were or how accurate his calculations are, she knew she was going to follow him, no matter where his fate led him to.

The rain continued to beat down against the earth.

***

Seed's deciding to head for the same route Primrose-rah had taken the months before had not come too quickly. In fact, he had decided on it well after his mate's death, when he and Useth had moved out of the hill that he had tried to make his home. It had been fu-Inlé, and Useth was away, scouting the premises. He had been crouching by a tree-trunk, contemplating.

It was not very long after Useth left that he saw, from the corner of his eyes, a quick movement beyond the brush. He had tensed up and waited patiently for something or another to emerge, and when nothing did, he went back to his thoughts. It might have been a mouse for all he cared. Someway or another, he found the nerve to investigate the source of the movement and was off sniffing the edges of the vegetation, trying to find tracks.

What happened next, he could not really fathom, and the memory had turned very hazy during the long weeks. He had seen a rabbit nearby and he had called aloud as he approached it. The rabbit did not turn to him. It seemed busy with its own affairs.

He stood bowlegged a few feet away, waiting for the rabbit to acknowledge him. It was then that he had noticed that the rabbit was seemingly speaking to another. He had pricked his ears up and listened. It was simple talk and it was unlikely the rabbits were plotting anything against him, by which he felt relieved.

"…I killed them. It was all my fault," the rabbit had suddenly said. His words caught Seed's attention.

"Go back to them," the other rabbit said. It emerged from behind the brush and stared hard at the other rabbit. "You are their Chief."

"I don't deserve it," came the cold reply. "I could not save them before, and I don't even know if there's anything left alive to save now."

"Of course there is. There always is."

Silence came, by which Seed's hackles had risen for no reason at all. He strained his eyes, trying to see the two rabbits better, but it was of no use. The night was too dark.

"You are their Chief, after all," the second rabbit repeated.

At his words, the two rabbits turned their heads towards Seed. And it was then that he uttered a wordless scream. One of the rabbits he knew by description alone—large, hefty, light-coloured, with dropped ears that had been cut to the edge. The other he knew well. It was a grey rabbit with piercing blue eyes.

"Go back to them," they both said at the same time. "You are their Chief."

After that, he found himself back by the tree-trunk, panting. He had nightmares each night, but it seemed, at the moment, that seeing Ghost and his Captain Coltsfoot was the worst thing imaginable. It had spoken of his failure and of that inevitable fact—that somehow, he had to face it, and try to claim what was his.

"What _is_ mine…?" he had found himself asking, as Useth bounded into view and collapsed in a snoring heap beside him. "What _is_ mine, but death and sorrow?" He watched her and thought for a moment that she looked a lot like Coltsfoot had in his dream.

By the time Frith rose in the morning, He saw, as He had seen many seasons ago, a _hlessi-rah_ and his Owsla. But this time, He shook His head in greeting, for good intentions could turn into muck, and people can only sit and watch as the strings of their lives are played on by fate.


	40. 

** 40**

"Oh Quillwort," Bracken exclaimed, stepping on the edges of the gritty dirt and looking all over the place with a sigh. "Have you brought us all the way just for this?"

The scruffy-furred rabbit appeared from behind the thick grass and made his way towards the sentry captain's side. Together, the two rabbits peered at the huge body of water that seemed to stretch for miles beyond. The smell of water was everywhere.

"Funny. It's a river, but it doesn't run," Quillwort muttered.

"It's not a river," another rabbit called out.

Bracken sighed at the voice, and without turning around to confirm the owner, said in a slightly annoyed tone, "How would you know, Elderberry?"

"It's not a river," Elderberry repeated, setting himself beside Quillwort and looking at Bracken with lifted brows. "Like Quillwort-rah said, might I quote, sir, it doesn't run. It's certainly too big." He lifted his nose and pointed it towards the water's edge, where it lapped up continuously against the earth. "A river doesn't do _that_, and of course, the soil is different."

Quillwort lifted one paw and sniffed the grit. "It's not a river," he said, earning a gracious smile from Elderberry's face. But he did not see it, nor did he bother to try to. "No matter what, though, what's important is that we find a way across. We've delayed far too long."

"Why bother, Quillwort?" Bracken groaned. "There's no way we can cross. We might as well turn back towards that ditch where we lived in throughout the winter and early spring. It's not the best place, but it's fit for a warren."

"Bracken, might I remind you that the man was setting traps for us? And that a lot of our kittens died because of that?" Quillwort held his temper in check and rose up on his hind legs. "We have to find a way," he said, looking beyond the water and towards the land that lay there. "Look, Bracken, Elderberry. The original itinerary was right. Those downs—they look perfect."

"There's a man-structure not too far, as well," Bracken cut in. "And of course, if I'm not wrong, which I'm not, I'm sure…those there are sheep."

"It's far away from the main downs," Elderberry replied, having decided Bracken was having too much of the say. He stood up just like Quillwort had done. "Ahhh, but don't you see? Ebony said there was no other place like this but east, and here we are…east…"

Bracken licked his lips.

Quillwort dropped down. "Admit it, Bracken. You want it as bad as we do."

"The man…the water…" Bracken shook his head and gazed at Quillwort fiercely. "It's too…"

"If we could get there," Quillwort muttered. His eyes strayed towards the wide, rolling greenness that stretched from the nearby downs and beyond. He could not imagine how much land there was to live in. It was larger than Primrose-rah's hill, broader than Inléthlay and Quieflain's field, and certainly a giant compared to Forest's tiny clearing. True, there was the presence of man to contemplate, and then there was a road running horizontally beside one of the downs, but what was that to worry about? If he took the precaution of making sure they would not get overcrowded, the man would leave them in peace. And of course, if ever the same incident in Primrose-rah would occur, he could be ready—trees covered a whole deal of the downs, and wherever there were trees would always be a hiding place.

Oh, what a kingdom, and no more than a mile away! He wished that Timothy was still alive, to bask in this joy instead of him. He turned towards his two Captains. "We'll halt where we are for the moment. I'll think of a way out of this."

Bracken nodded and quickly hopped away.

When he was certainly out of sight, Elderberry turned towards Quillwort. "The rabbits are getting impatient," he said. "A lot of them just want a good place where they can eat and rest and sleep."

"We never got that, did we?" Quillwort replied. "We tried to settle for less and lost what we've hoped for."

"I know. All I'm saying is, if you're gonna think, think quick." He heaved a sigh. For the first time, Elderberry was actually depending on his Chief for a plan.

"You and Carrot secure the area. I'll take a detour around here to see if I can find a bridge or something." He hopped off, leaving Elderberry on his own.

The Captain of Owsla stayed behind for a moment, allowing the wind to ruffle his ears. Would Quillwort find a way? He hoped he did, for being a rabbit, the prospect of challenging something this big was normally unknown of. He licked his lips and watched his reflection on the water.

"Elderberry-rah," he said beneath his breath. "Take care of your Chief for now. You'll need him until it's time for him to step down."

He gave the distant downs a quick glance and, in an almost joyous manner, leaped back towards the rest of the warren.

***

Seed stopped short and lifted his nose high in the air, sniffing. The atmosphere was thick with the scent of wheat, for they were in a field, but now he could smell the slight tinge of water in it. Plenty of water, he wagered. "We're near," was all he said, and looking around first, he broke into a quick run.

Useth gazed about, wondering if there was danger about. When she was sure there didn't seem to be, she cried, "Seed, wait up!" Flicking her tail, she plunged into the furrow he'd made running through the wheat. 

He was standing at the edge of the lake when she arrived. "This is it," she said, running up beside him and peering closely at his face. He didn't seem to notice her arrival, and so she continued to talk. "This is what we saw. A lake, he called it?"

He gazed towards the downs, thinking.

"Seed, there's no way across. If they went here, they'd be stuck…" Useth began. She tilted her head to one side, trying to get her point across to him. "Hey." She poked his side with a paw.

He turned towards the edge of the lake. "We'll have to find a way then," he said, walking off.

She heaved a sigh and trotted behind him.

They encountered little along the water's and an hour later, the two finally withdrew towards the comfort and shelter the nearby vegetation offered. Chewing on a piece of leaf, Useth wondered what Seed had in mind. He was gazing at a man-thing floating on the surface of the water, not far from where they were.

"I'll take a look at it," she said, echoing his thoughts. She got up and cautiously approached the object. 

She almost wished that the Inléthlay and Nur-Lath Owsla had as much exposure to man as a warren like Quieflain would have. She hadn't a clue what this thing was. Wary, she touched its sides with her nose. It was dry and rough. When she used her paw to touch it, it slightly shifted across the water surface.

She drew back to look at it in whole. It was big, big enough to hold two men, in her opinion. Other than that, there didn't seem to be anything interesting about it. She wondered, again, what Seed thought this thing could be of use for.

Useth looked back to gaze at him briefly. She could not see very well from this distance, but she knew that Seed hadn't moved from his spot. He was observing her, she thought.

She started to head back towards him, but then, the hunting-cry of a hawk filled the air.

The suddenness filled her with panic. She leaped for the nearest shelter she saw—the man-object in the lake—and, ignoring her fears, scrambled inside it. After a moment, she poked her head outside. The hawk had turned direction. Unless it did not find other prey, it was not likely to come back.

It was then that the doe realized where she was. She flicked her ears. Like she figured, the thing was big, and its walls were higher than a rabbit. Across the opening on top were two flat boards. It was by placing her paws on one of these that she managed to clamber away from the bottom.

Here, she dug her claws deep into the surface of the board, for the object swayed in tune with the water. And now, a strange revelation occurred to her. If Seed wanted to cross the lake…maybe if they could make this thing move…

Biting her lip, she rocked herself, and watched, half-amazed, as the boat shifted once more. She looked behind her. Things float on water, don't they? But they drift away. Why doesn't this thing do just that?

She took one good look at the water and plunged into it.

She reached the shore and there shook herself dry. The boat was still shaking from the momentum of her leap, but it remained where it had moments earlier. She hopped back towards Seed and told him all she had discovered.

He seemed a bit pleased, though nowadays, it was hard to tell, and he followed her back to where it was. "Now, I can't seem to figure out why it won't float away…" she said, as they neared it. 

He hopped towards it and looked it over. "T-that thing. What's it for?" he suddenly asked.

She looked at what he was indicating. It was a rope tied around a small tree and was attached to the boat.

"I'm not really sure…" she began, watching him approach it and take a sniff.

"Does it move?" he asked.

She stared at him.

"Does it move when you make it?"

"I suppose…" she replied.

He sat down and gazed into space.

She waited for what seemed an incredibly lengthy amount of time. When her patience had begun to wear off, she began to look around her in an effort to amuse herself. It was then that she noticed a kitten swaggering towards them.

"Hello there," she called, making Seed snap his head towards her. She ignored him and approached the kitten. It was a chubby young buck, barely two months old, and had a bright, cheery face.

"Hullo," the kitten said, standing up to gain a closer look at her. He tumbled backwards in his attempt and sheepishly grinned. "Um' Hlao."

"Hlao, huh?" Useth asked, and the kitten's head bounced up and down. "What are you doing here by yourself?"

"Um' lost," the kitten replied, rubbing his cheek with a fat paw. "Um' tryin' tew get back to my _marli_. You know her?"

Useth cocked her head towards Seed. His interest now seems to be fully absorbed by the young stranger. "What do you make of it?" she asked, knowing he was on to something.

"Your warren, it's Primrose-rah, right?" Seed asked.

The kitten nodded. He pointed at Seed. "You know?"

It happened in a moment, a swift concoction of cruel fate, and with that Seed leaped into the air and with one fierce lunge struck the kitten. It slid across the sand, squealing, its neck and back broken in the impact. Everything grew still. Useth could see nothing but the blurred shadows, could hear nothing but the lapping of the water against the shore. Elahrairah cried.

She was still dumbstruck when Seed approached the kitten, its head jerking, its body in a spasm. Blood spurted from its mouth and nose. Its eyes were wide open, hurting, accusing. Seed did not care. He had seen that face far too many times. He looked up and welcomed the Black Rabbit with a smile. He knew the other did the same.

"Useth," he said.

To her ears, it seemed as if his voice was changed. She forced herself to look at him, tried hard not to notice the blood on his paws. "Go back the way we came from," he said, and without caring to ask her how she felt, told her his plans. Useth listened, her body shivering. His words ran through her—her mind did not want to obey. But her heart did, and as he was finished, she, forever his slave, ran off to do as he bid.

***

Seed walked off across the fading light, his paws washed and dried. He had followed the direction he knew Hlao had come from, and was in no hurry to get there. From the distance, he could see a rabbit, alone, and that was enough to calm his nerves.

But as he drew closer to the rabbit, he began to feel a tinge of fear run up his spine. He stopped in his tracks and sniffed. Yes, he guessed right. This was Quillwort. Thinner, perhaps, but Quillwort, all the same.

It was the last rabbit he wanted to face. He began to edge back, hoping he was not yet noticed.

But he found that it was too late, for Quillwort suddenly broke into a quick run towards him. His instincts told him to flee, but he decided to stay back. There was something to be gained by continuing to be calm. He allowed Quillwort to approach him.

He had fashioned a sort of greeting in his mind, but Quillwort rendered this useless. He saw the rabbit's claws bearing down on him, and before he could react, he felt his senses slipping away.

***

When he woke up, it was to find the eyes of many gazing at him, mouths twisted into a frown. His head reeled as he slowly got up to face them, and Quillwort, who was standing beside him, furious. The reception bothered him.

"Why did you follow us?" Quillwort asked, before he could speak first.

He felt a paw from behind cuff him. Looking only at Quillwort, he said, simply, "Y-y-you need to c-c-ross the water."

"That doesn't concern you," Quillwort scoffed. Again, the cuff came, and Seed thought his brain was shattered.

"No," Seed replied, his head reeling. "B-b-ut I know a w-way out…"

As his words came out, the rabbits began to whisper amongst themselves. Quillwort's whiskers curled. "Silence!" he barked, and the rabbits lowered their heads. He eyed Seed. "What do you mean you know a way out?"

"Quillwort…" Bracken called, from where he'd been sitting nearby, having observed the scene silently until now. "Don't…"

"Ex-exactly what I meant," Seed said. He bit his lip until it bled.

"Seed," Quillwort sighed, and his voice grew softer. "Seed, you're a pestilence."

"I h-have a way out," he repeated. This time, he looked not at Quillwort but at the rabbits around him.

"A pestilence…death came when you were here…" Quillwort cried. He turned sharply around as Seed got up from where he'd been crouching. "Stop where you are. You don't want to test me…"

Seed lifted his ears and gazed at him.

The action struck him. He almost stepped back, unbelieving. This was _Seed_, he reasoned. He'd thought the rabbit was dead for seasons, but he remembered him clearly. He was a young fool. His gait was soft, unsure. What confidence he had came rarely in short bursts. He knew that this rabbit was not the Seed he knew.

"_Ghost-rah_…" he muttered beneath his breath. "_Timothy-rah_…"

He felt the eyes of all the rabbits around him. Was he wise enough to put back all his anger for the sake of the warren…? Suddenly, he realized he was in a vulnerable position. 

He turned to his Captain of Owsla. Elderberry had been surprisingly quiet all this time, and now that Quillwort took notice of him, he realized how deep in thought the rabbit was. He licked his lips and sighed. "What do you plan, then?"

"It's…it's for your ears a-alone," Seed said.

Quillwort lifted his head. "Back to your burrows. Elderberry, take in charge while I'm off. Here, Seed." He stepped towards a hole.

Seed followed him gingerly, a soft smile on his face. Quillwort was as level-headed as he thought he would be. If it had been his father, he could never have convinced him of anything other than an order for his death. "Frith…" he began, out of habit, but then shook it off. "Huh. As if You even know I exist."

***

_ Frith, I don't usually question Your ways…but why…?_

Rain, when looked at for a brief moment, seems almost stable, mechanical—the drops fall and create lines, and the lines continue in a sure manner. Only when one looks down does one see the chaos rain ensues: the splashes of wet mud and dirt, leaves swept away, water trickling everywhere. It was exactly the way Useth was as she bounded with the errand Seed had entrusted to her. Outside, her movements never faltered. Inside, she wept, and cursed, and found herself thrown in a torrent of endless confusion and emotion.

Her jaw ached. Saliva trickled down her mouth, but she dared not swallow it. Repulsion filled her entire body. But, for some strange reason, she did not seem to question her actions. What Seed said, she must do...? After all, he was…he was…he was…

She reached the place, the start of a farmyard they have passed by a while ago. There were no proper fences. She found entering the place quite easy, although she was still cautious. Her first actual venture to a farm had ended in disaster. It was the same disaster that led her to where she was now.

She looked around and quickly spotted the very thing Seed wanted her to look for. It was a pair of dogs, tied to a kennel each. They were sleeping. Even from afar, Useth could hear their heavy breathing, could see the languid rise and fall of their ribbed chests.

She gazed upwards. There was a post near one of the dogs' kennels, connecting the fence about. She approached it. It was thick, much like a rabbit's haunch, and quite tall. Useth braced herself and clambered to its top. She could not stay there for long…not being an athletic sort, she had quickly to make a blind leap towards the roof of a kennel. She landed squarely, but was swayed by the weight of her burden.

From below, both dogs lifted their heads in alarm. She could see them looking towards the distance, and, afraid that they would notice her before she could act, she crouched down.

They did not seem to realize her presence, however, and after a moment of silence, one of them spoke. The tongue had a harsh, gasping accent, and Useth, who knew only Lapine and hedgerow talk, could do nothing but wait patiently as the dogs conversed.

They passed words between each other and finally seemed to come to a conclusion. She saw the two heads disappear and knew that the dogs have decided to go back to their rest.

Slowly, she cleared her throat. "Listen to me, you dogs."

One of the dogs cried aloud and leaped into the air, yanking the rope attached to the kennel. Useth splayed her claws out as she tried to stay where she was. The dog continued to bark, but the other said something, and it finally calmed down.

"The Prince of Rabbits, _Elahrairah_, seeks your assistance," she continued. She crouched down again, expecting the dog go off into another racket. Surprisingly, it did not. It stayed put and gave a low whine. Useth was about to continue speaking when she realized that the dog was trying to talk back.

"…ye'…who…what ye' need…?" the calmer of the two dogs asked. His voice was thick. Useth could barely understand it.

"The Rabbit Prince wishes you to help take his…" She paused. "His _hrududu_ across the other side of the water." 

The dogs looked at each other. "Hru…du…?" the other dog asked.

"It shall be filled with rabbits," she said. A flea hopped onto her ear, but she was too nervous to flick it away.

"Mes…eat'a rabbits," the same dog said. It looked towards the calmer dog and spoke again in their own language. Useth, who was starting to get frustrated, wished she had taken a language training program in Inléthlay. It was only when the flea started biting that she remembered no warren had such a thing. Hedgerow was the only foreign tongue the Owsla ever bothered to learn.

"We help…for what …" the calmer dog stated.

"You shall have your fill," Useth said, though she felt repulsed saying it.

"Rope…cannot get away, but…" the dog added.

She lifted her head. When the other dog had leaped into the air, the cord tied around its neck was pulled taut. She looked around and saw that the cord was connected to the top of the kennel. 

"How convenient," she muttered in Lapine, and set about chewing it. The cord fell off after a few moments. Bracing herself, she leaped onto the other kennel and did the same thing.

"We decide…still…" the dog said. She had leaped back to the other kennel while it was speaking. "Where…find…ye'?"

"The Rabbit Prince needs you soon. If you decide to accept, I will meet you by the wooden fence and the birch tree in the morning. If you decide not too, do not bother to show yourselves."

It was, as she was speaking, that the dog whose kennel she was sitting on looked up and noticed she was there for the first time. It started to lick its lips.

She bared hers and said, "I am only one rabbit. You eat me now, you will eat nothing more."

The other dog gave a warning growl. The dog stepped back, at this, and whined mournfully.

"Consider this the down payment," she said, dropping her bundle on the ground below as she jumped back on the pole and on the other side of the wire fencing around the farm. Quickly, she leaped away. From behind her, the dogs snarled and tore apart the soft body of the kitten, its dull, blank eyes staring at its traitor, the world.

And even when she was far, far away from them, the taste of the kitten's blood lingered in her mouth, and it came to a point where she had to throw herself to the ground to save her sanity and cry to Frith to forgive her, forgive her, forgive her for the sake of her love…

***

"Seed," Quillwort said. There was a tinge of impatience in his voice. "It's been more than a day and you haven't done anything yet."

Seed looked at him and narrowed his eyelids. "T-t-tired of waiting, are we…?" he asked.

Unused to the young rabbit's sarcasm, Quillwort sighed in exasperation. "You said you know a way out, you bloody mongrel…"

"Watch y-y-our mouth," Seed growled back. 

"But you haven't done anything yet," the rough-furred rabbit finished. Quillwort licked his lips. "Oh, Seed, if you're using this as a reason to stay in the warren, forget it…if you haven't done anything by tomorrow…"

"Do _you_ have a plan…?" Seed broke in.

Quillwort lifted a paw. "No, but unless you do, remember that I have this."

Seed did not reply. He was looking into the distance. The darkness, though thick, could not conceal the movements from beyond the bushes. He tensed. Quillwort noted this and hopped forward, ears lifted.

"Who's there…?" he called aloud, after a few moments of uncertainty.

A look of relief crossed Seed's face as Useth appeared into view, weary and damp from the fresh-fallen rain. She passed Quillwort a knowing glance, then turned to Seed. "I did what you told me," she said in a less-than-pleased tone. She looked behind her, and called aloud in hedgerow. "Your Prince awaits."

Quillwort stepped back as the two dogs emerged. They were in the same state as Useth, bedraggled and with tongues lolling out. They stared at Quillwort, then at Seed, seemingly less than impressed at both rabbits.

"I…am…Seed," Seed said, stepping in front of Quillwort. He was bad at hedgerow. Vexed, he turned to Useth. "Tell them they will start by dawn. They will rest for now." His whiskers twitched slightly. It was difficult trying to keep his nerves calm. He was mortally afraid of dogs, ever since the farm incident last autumn. He knew he could not hide the fact from either Quillwort or Useth…he hoped, at least, that the dogs were less aware.

He now faced Quillwort. "Y-y-you go and find your b-best guards and diggers to hold the area on the other side when we get there."

Quillwort quickly hopped off. It was only when he was out of sight that Seed realized how much more of an Owsla Quillwort was, than a Chief. Following orders was as natural to him as breathing.

"Hungry," one of the dogs suddenly barked. It sat down and began to scratch the fur next to its muddy collar. 

"Seed…" Useth muttered, but Seed had disappeared. She turned to the confused dog and said, "He'll be back."

The dog continued to scratch, feigning deafness. 

Useth sighed and crouched in a corner to feed. Since that morning, she had ceased becoming afraid of the dogs. They were both simple-minded beings—normally no more ferocious than a kitten—and were very easy to talk to. In fact, she rather liked their company. She regretted the fact that she could not understand Canine or that they could not speak better hedgerow…they seemed to talk to each other quite often, and she longed to gain more knowledge of their lives than what appeared to the eye.

Seed reappeared, snapping her off her thoughts. Behind him followed two rabbits, both commoners, by the harassed look in their faces. At the sight of the dogs, they both fell to the ground, paralyzed with shock. The dogs looked at the rabbits quizzically, then turned to Useth for command.

"Your meal, my friends," she said, by which, with the swiftness that a fox would have, the two leaped at a rabbit each and killed them on the spot. The colour drained from Useth's face as they sat around their prey and began to devour. Seed, sitting in a corner, did not seem as horrified, but he might as well have been…she knew he had recently learned how to hide his emotions well.

"We will have to retire. Attack no rabbit about, for if then, we will have no need of you," Useth said. The dogs grunted in response, and she followed Seed as he walked away. She said nothing, preferring instead to look at his face. It was too different.

Seed stopped in his tracks, and she quickly looked away, hoping he hadn't noticed. He turned to her, as if to speak, but it was as if he couldn't find the words. Her heart fluttered, expectantly.

"You have no burrow for now…it's okay if you sleep in m-mine, r-r-right…?"

But she was crushed as they reached the place, for, as he did nowadays, he quickly curled up in a corner and slept, acting as if his invitation had been nothing short of political. Again, she sighed, approached him in the dark, and imagined, from what she'd seen earlier, the harsh look obliterating his once-soft face. And even as she was repulsed by the thought of touching it, she did, softly, and if only she hadn't been so occupied, she would have heard him sigh in his troubled sleep.


	41. 

**41**

The two dogs called themselves Ayam and Idú. They looked similar, with thick, unkempt coats pure black in colour, deep, broad chests, half-pricked ears, and large paws. To anyone with more observance, they would have seen that Ayam, the calmer of the two dogs, had a more wolfish snout, tapered at the end, and was smaller than his brother Idú, who had a blunter muzzle and enormous jowls.

They were restless for the entirety of the morning, and to Useth, they appeared almost excited about their newfound job. Already, the bored, sleepy look she had seen in their faces when she first arrived was gone, and the meals they've had so far had strengthened their weakened state.

"We're ready," Quillwort called, approaching Seed and Useth. Behind him stood a small band of rabbits, their fearfulness distorting their appearance.

"T-t-these are your b-b-best…?" Seed asked.

"Scared rabbits can do their job just as well," Quillwort countered. He turned towards the lake and lifted his snout high in the air. "You're saying that thing can take us to the other side?"

Without answering, Seed hopped towards the boat and touched the rope with his paw. He gazed at his onlookers with something akin to contempt, then began to chew through it.

"Come," Useth said, motioning to the two dogs. They followed her obediently, and sat when she did, tongues lolling, an expression of coolness in their faces.

Seed's teeth finally finished the job, and the rope snapped. The boat floated away from the shore and settled a few feet away, the lake's motions rocking it to and fro. Useth took a deep breath and plunged into the water, heading for it. Everyone watched her.

She took hold of what left of the rope in her jaws and looked towards the dogs. They gazed at her. Idú barked, clueless of the situation, before starting to whine. Ayam gave a short "Riff," and quickly dove into the water after Useth.

Useth dropped the rope just as Ayam reached to pick it up. "Head for the shore," she said, with some difficulty, and began to swim towards it. The dog nodded and followed her, his muzzle straining as he tried to pull the boat along with him.

Idú bounded to his side, doing as his brother did. With this, they managed to reach the edge and stood there, panting and shaking the water off their coats.

"Do you see my point?" Seed asked.

Quillwort turned to his rabbits. "Inside that…thing…now."

The rabbits looked at each other before hopping into the boat. Seed and Quillwort followed with them.

"Let us do the same, only for the other edge," Useth said, diving back into the water. The dogs nodded and dragged the boat back the other way.

They swam a bit of a distance when Quillwort peered on the other side and cried aloud to Useth. "Get in here! You're going to drown that way!"

Useth coughed and stubbornly shook her head. "If they're doing this I'm…" Her words were muffled as she swallowed another portion of water.

Seed wrinkled his nose. "I can't…" he was starting to say, but Quillwort did not want to hear him out. The Chief Rabbit went into the water and pushed the kicking Useth against the boat.

"Help out here, lads!" he called, by which several of the guards immediately reached down and grabbed the loose skin around Useth's neck. She was hauled on board, coughing and shivering. Seed watched her with dimmed eyes. He was unmoved.

Quillwort appeared, dragged in the same way. "Stay in here next time," the rabbit said, his whiskers dripping. "No good getting yourself killed over there."

Useth nodded. From the corner of her eyes, she turned to Seed, seeking his attention. He gave her none. Instead, he was gazing fervently at the land that had lain on the other side of the water. They have come ashore.

The two male leaders were the first to jump out. "I can't believe…we're here…" Quillwort muttered. He, like Seed, was astounded. From afar, the downs looked beautiful…but this close…it rendered him almost speechless.

"Careful…" one of the guards called aloud. "Sir…there's still the matter of the farm nearby…"

Seed traipsed over to Quillwort's side. "Y-y-you send a few m-more rabbits this way," he said, his tone directed to Useth. "I'm leaving you in charge. T-the rest…m-make shelter near that grove of trees. Q-Quillwort and I will do some…m-make sure we're received by the r-r-rabbits…in the area."

And again, Quillwort regarded this without a single complaint. He was not a rabbit that resented authority. Seed hid his amusement by walking off towards the downs. Like a true regimental officer, Quillwort followed.

"Well, they won't be back for a while," Useth said as the two disappeared from sight. She looked around for the two dogs. They were stretched out beside the boat, apparently exhausted. "_Es elil, u nahl-meth,"_ she said, approaching them.

Ayam's closed eyes opened as he gave her a wide grin. "_Ikang naga-kaung damu, su mabut."_

"When will you go back to fetch the others?" a rabbit called to her.

She licked the water off her coat and answered, "Not quite yet. When the dogs are well."

"_Elil_-lover…" the rabbit coughed under her breath.

Useth looked up. She had ears and could hear well. "Speak again…" she began.

The rabbit cut her off with a sharp look. "And you'll what? Feed me to the dogs?"

Her whisker twitched. She looked behind the rabbit to check on the other guards…they were too far away to hear anything, having arranged themselves so that the does were digging temporary burrows and the rest were on watch. "I don't know where you hear such things…" she said, turning towards the doe. "But I will have none of it." She took a deep breath. "Get back to your duty. As far as I'm concerned, Seed is bringing your rabbits to where you want them, and as long as you're dependant on him, you'll keep your thoughts to yourself."

The rabbit was about to speak when Idú unwittingly lifted his head and gave a low growl.

The doe cursed under her breath and hopped off. 

"Rest," she said, soothingly, like she had once spoken to Seed when his dreams tormented him during the nights. "I will make sure no harm comes to you."

Idú whined and relaxed.

Useth sighed. "I have done the worst," she muttered to herself. "I have killed, lied about it, and this afternoon, I will have to kill more…" She shivered. The thought was far too sickening to stomach for even a mere second. Her life, as she knew it, was damned. 

***

"D-don't rush, Quillwort."

Seed looked up from the pile of clover he'd been patiently grazing the past half an hour or so. It was late evening. He and Quillwort had maintained a slow, lumbering pace throughout the entire day, having covered an entire hill during that period.

"I haven't hurried you for the past few hours," Quillwort replied. The rabbit sat up. "How could you think I would want that…?"

"You're eager to meet the rabbits that live here," Seed said, without looking up. "Well, don't f-f-fret…the more you l-look rushed, the l-less of an impression you'll make."

"Seed, when have you turned into a politician?"

_ Since my children died_, he was going to answer, but thought the better of it. _Politics_ was a word beyond him. He knew all too well that he was simply following a path that he should have taken when he first had the position he was now groping for.

"D-d-don't worry too much." Seed sat up and began to wash his face.

He heard Quillwort sigh. "We're strange rabbits in strange territory. We no longer have the Owsla that had fought well with those Nizorn rabbits last year."

He didn't reply to this. He continued to lick his paws.

"…the dog killed a few…but most…died during the winter. The stronger and more hostile the rabbits here are, the worse off we'll be."

"Y-y…you want to turn back?" Seed suddenly asked.

Quillwort shook his head.

"We'll f-fight if we have to…" Seed replied firmly. 

***

They met the first rabbit at the foot of the first hill, and watched as it squealed and disappeared into the copse that marked the edge of the valley. "That's an inconvenience," Seed heard Quillwort mutter. "I wonder what kind of other wretched greeting they have in store for us…?"

"We'll s-stay here…" Seed said, sitting down.

"And get ourselves be killed. Nifty," Quillwort huffed. He sat down beside Seed.

"And when have y-y-ou turned c-c-ynical…?" Seed asked, cocking his head at the former Captain.

_ Since my Chief died_, he was going to answer, but decided not to. Instead, he said, "You know…I was your father's Captain for less than half a year. Do you know why I stopped them from killing you…?"

_ Because you're a damn coward,_ Seed thought, before shaking his head. Hatred was not needed. Quillwort was under his control already. He had no reason to hate him anymore.

"Because when I was a kitten, I saw your father leave the warren to find a cure for the sick rabbits, and I thought, _he is brave_, he is very brave, for going off to risk his life for them, even when it doesn't even seem that what he was looking for even existed. Your father was very young. I was even younger."

Seed knew nothing of what Quillwort was talking about. He chewed on the grass quietly.

"A rabbit came, one time, when I was a little older, bearing with him the cure, but your father—he came back two years later, after I have become Captain of Owsla. By then, he had grown very old. Very, very old."

"Why tell me this?" Seed asked.

Quillwort sighed and crouched down. "Just a rabbit contemplating, Seed. I admired your father, more than Ghost-rah, who I've served longer than him. I hope you understand that."

"T-that you give me a chance because of h-him?" Seed asked.

"Yes," Quillwort said.

Seed broke into a smirk. "T-that was b-before, Quillwort. N-now, you're giving me a chance, because of _me._" _Even though you may not accept it._

The rabbit gave him a knowing glance.

"Ye' intruders!" a loud voice boomed suddenly on them. Seed backed up as two rabbits appeared into view, walking towards them in Owsla-fashion, their footsteps heavy, their faces foreboding.

Quillwort stepped forward. "Here we are," the rabbit said, licking his lips.

"Ye' come from the west…" one of the rabbits stated, pushing his nose towards Quillwort. Quillwort obliged him by allowing himself to be sniffed all over. "How…?"

"W…we wish to speak to your leader," Seed said, and at his words, the other rabbit approached him and sniffed him as well. Seed closed his eyes, used to this sort of hostility. "Our b-business is for h-his ears only."

One of the rabbits grunted, and stared at his companion for a quick moment. "We'll bring ye' t'er 'im," he said, walking behind Seed. "But ye' will have t'er walk fast, f'er they'll be expectin' us bef'er the moon rises."

And walk fast, they did, for Seed didn't even find the time to gaze around and observe his surroundings during their trek, and when he did, they had already reached the surface of the warren. The area vaguely reminded him of Forest—a vast opening from the trees that scattered around the edges. 

"Our Chief," one of their escorts called aloud. A rabbit that had been grazing nearby lifted its head and hopped towards them. It was an old buck, his hair patched with grey all over. To Quillwort, it was an unimpressive Chief Rabbit. Though of good size, he had no bearing, and his eyes were soft and quiet. Anyone would have thought him no more than a commoner seeking _flay_ for his aching teeth. 

The old rabbit sat up and rubbed his forepaws together. "And these rabbits are…my good Captain…?"

"Strangers reported, sir," one of the two Owsla rabbits said. "They come from the west…"

"Ah, you crossed the lake?" the old rabbit asked, his eyes lighting up.

"Y-yes," Seed replied.

The old rabbit turned his head slightly towards Seed. Deeply, he looked into the rabbit's eyes, even as Seed shrunk back from the intensity. "Hmmm," he sighed, then wrinkled his nose.

"Under your care, of course," Quillwort inserted. He lifted his ears towards Seed, and when the rabbit ceased to reply, he found the courage to continue. "We will stay in the hill adjacent to yours, and we will not bother you as to your wishes."

"Ah." The Chief nodded gravely. He looked towards his Captain. "Do you know that we never get _hlessi_? I suppose this is a mixed blessing for us." He sighed and beckoned for them to follow him. "I will need to show you something." 

They left the warren and headed for higher elevation. There, the Chief pointed at the man-den that stood not far away, his ears laid back. "We live under strict rules here," he said. "What burrows we make, man must not see. You can live in that hill, but the holes should only come up to the copse within _here_, and it's best that you not eat where the men can see you. And also, what digging you do should be made with regard." He turned towards the two. "In fact, I do not allow my rabbits to dig without permission, and before we give that we have to inspect the area to make sure what goes below is not seen above."

He wrinkled his nose. "I can of course just say this to you and wish you'd follow through, but I can't make any risks, you know. I've lived here and my rabbits live here. You do understand…?"

"So you mean…" Quillwort heaved a big sigh. He didn't know how strong this rabbit's Owsla was, but he knew Primrose-rah wasn't ready for any sort of battle anytime soon. 

The rabbit's eyes lit up. "You will have to merge…and live…with us. I'll need to watch you and your warren's activities up close. Maybe if you do good enough, I'll let you off your own in a bit."

"Why are you doing this?" Seed suddenly brought in. "You didn't give a reason for…"

"Hush!" Quillwort snapped.

The Chief rabbit closed his eyes. When he opened them again, there was a warmth in them that Seed found strangely familiar, and soothing. "We're—in a bind, you might say. We have few does. This warren was small in the beginning, when I—came here. Don't think we're weak—we do have plenty of bucks. We lose most of our does…due to an illness of some sort." 

Quillwort nodded, but Seed thought there was something else. It was the way the rabbit _looked_ at him. Like they knew each other, and the rabbit only didn't want to say.

"Well, now that that's settled!" The old buck straightened up and turned towards the two Owsla that had followed them up to here. "Captain Gladiolus, could you kindly escort one of them back to their rabbits? I will talk to the other so they'll get a clear idea of what I want."

Quillwort and Seed looked at each other. Now was not the time to argue with anybody, and both seemed to figure that out pretty well. Seed flicked his ears. "Useth would be back with the next group of rabbits a-about now. W-why don't you go on…?"

"Now you, follow me," the Chief said. Seed flicked his ears and cautiously obeyed. "We haven't introduced each other yet, have we? What's your name?"

"I'm…I'm Seed…" he said, and looked around in time to see Quillwort head off with Gladiolus and his companion. "Seed—Chief of Primrose-rah…" he said, without looking towards the other rabbit. It was his warren. There was nothing Quillwort could do to change the blood that ran in his veins.

He did not notice the slight pause, or the deep sigh that followed, only knew the rabbit's voice when he said, "I am the Chief of Léao-nang. My name is Nightshade-rah."


	42. 

** 42**

It took them days to transport the rabbits to the other end, due to Useth's insistence that the dogs take half a day's break every time they had to drag the boat across the water. By the third day, a good half of the rabbits remained behind. 

Useth was busy sending her newest batch towards their respective Captains when out of nowhere Seed appeared. She looked up, gave her face a quick wash, and bounded towards him. She hadn't seen him since he left their first time across. For all her newfound hatred of him, she greeted his arrival with the enthusiasm of any doe who greets her buck.

"Welcome back…sir…" she said, as she neared him. _I missed you. I've really missed you. Have you been eating right…? You seem a bit calmer than usual. That's good. I missed you...I wish I could tell you that…_

"Useth, t-t-this is Nightshade-rah…of Léao-nang," Seed replied, nodding towards the old buck that trailed behind him. Useth's gaze strayed towards the rabbit. She hadn't noticed him. 

"Oh…" she said, and quickly approached the rabbit to touch noses with him. "I'm Useth. Seed-rah's…"

She paused. She didn't _know_ what she was to him.

"…personal confidante," Seed interjected, as if he knew exactly when she was troubled. He gave them both a wry smile. "And m-my best friend."

"That's too informal…" Useth said with a grin. She felt exceedingly better. 

"Formalities ruin rabbits," Nightshade laughed. He gave a long yawn and trotted towards the boat. "So…this is how you bring the rabbits here, eh? Ingenious." He suddenly jumped back, noticing the dogs for the first time. Ayam had decided to wreck the whole affair by yawning.

"…_mata na…_Seed and Nightshade are here…" Useth said, quickly hopping towards them to break whatever fears the old rabbit might have. She touched noses with Ayam then turned towards the amazed Nightshade. "They…listen well," she said.

"You know dogspeak?" the rabbit asked, blinking.

"Not a lot. Enough for them not to eat me…?" She gave a quick chuckle.

"I…it's been too slow…" Seed suddenly said.

Useth turned to him. He was touching the boat with his paws while looking over the other side, where a few expectant rabbits were noticeably walking about the shore. "There are still…a lot of rabbits there…" he said. He gave Useth a sharp look. "We…I-I want to bring them to the w-warren before nightfall…"

"But that's in a few hours," Useth began. "They've just finished bringing in a few…"

"T-they need to bring in m-more, then…" Seed said. He looked at the dogs. "W-wake up. Tell them to get up. I d-d-don't want them littering the lakeside. The human could see us any moment."

"Seed…"

"_Now, Useth_," he said, gritting his teeth.

Useth slunk back. It was the actually first time Seed had given her so sharp an order. She turned to the dogs and lovingly licked the side of Ayam's face. "_Pa na_," she said softly. "Let's go."

The dogs barked and went back into the lake without complaint. Useth rode inside the boat as they towed it back to the other side. She watched Seed's figure grow smaller. She wished he didn't have to be a Chief. She wished she didn't have to be an Owsla.

They brought in another boatload of rabbits. Seed watched them jump off with narrowed eyes, and turned to Useth the moment they had all dispersed. "K-keep at it," he said. Idú barked. 

She looked at him with angry eyes, but obeyed anyway. 

***

"Ah, but that is our last group," Elderberry was saying, a grin plastered on his aged face as he looked over to the boat in the distance, where the figures of several rabbits were clearly silhouetted. He stretched his legs, having been the last high Captain to have made it to the shore. "Seed-rah, I could still not believe that you came up with this idea. It's…too splendid…"

"Quillwort," Seed muttered, ignoring Elderberry's honeyed words. He had been watching the approaching boat from afar, perturbed about something. The fur on his back was raised. "That…t-that streak across the s-sky I just saw…"

Before he could finish speaking, thunder rumbled through the air.

Quillwort lifted his nose and sniffed. "It's only rain," the rabbit replied. "Not much."

Seed furrowed his brows. "I s-s-suppose…" he muttered. The air smelled surprisingly thick to him.

"What's wrong with a little rain?" Quillwort asked, leaning his head towards Seed. He twitched his whiskers. "It's not going to be a bother, is it…?"

"We should be heading back to the warren," Nightshade voiced aloud. The old rabbit yawned. "If it's rain, it's going to be hard to see _elil_."

"Just as it is hard for them to see us…" Quillwort said, but he began to walk off, anyway. "Aren't you lot coming? They're probably halfway there by now." Gladiolus and Bracken had gone off with the rest earlier, leaving the four behind with several stragglers. Nightshade had wanted to watch the lake for a bit, and none of them had objected to the idea. But the impending rain now broke their luxury. Elderberry followed behind his superior.

"Seed?" Nightshade asked, looking around. The young rabbit was still sitting where he was, ignoring the drops of rain drumming against his fur.

"Useth," he said quietly. He flicked his ears back.

"They'll be alright," Nightshade reassured him. "It's just a little rain…"

As if to mock him, the sky rumbled once more, and the drizzle broke into a full-fledged shower. Seed crouched down, humbled by the intensity of the torrent. "I-it's a storm…" he said, below his breath.

Nightshade could not hear him. Like Seed, his eyes were on the boat, rocking helplessly but meters away from them, half-obscured by the pounding rain and the raging waters that threatened to engulf it…

***

The squealing of the frightened rabbits had drained Useth's patience completely. She had now pinned several beneath her body, cursing them beyond the wail of the storm, watching the few that she hadn't in her control dumbly leap out of the boat and into their doom. She did not know what else to do. Her body was numb with cold. Her mind could comprehend nothing but the stench from the rabbits, the rocking of the boat, the howling of the furious wind…

She called aloud to the dogs, a cry of encouragement, though her words were muffled by the continued thrashing of the waves. They were not too far from the shore. She tried to peer over the edge, to see how they were doing, but the rain had masked everything. She could only hear their faint yelps. _Elil_, too, get frightened. 

They were near—so near. She could now see the nearby land, and now, stricken with excitement, she began to talk to the rabbits to whom she had earlier called uncouth names. "You'll all be safe now…" she said. "Okay…?"

The boat creaked. Useth's claws dug into the wet, slippery wood.

The wind grew stronger. The rain started to feel like thorns against her shivering skin.

The boat toppled to its side.

At first, Useth thought it was a dream, and felt nothing but an irresistible urge to sleep. Then, before she knew it, water rushed into her lungs, and she found herself kicking, trying to surface for air. _Frith_, she thought, even though the greyness covered all, _Frith…_

She felt cold, gritty sand against her paws, and with the thought of survival ingrained in her mind, managed to haul herself ashore. There, she lay against her side, breathing and coughing. She felt as if all her strength had worn off. She could lie here forever.

She heard a whine, and at that moment, remembered the dogs.

To a rabbit, she had grown far too attached to them in the short time they had been under her charge. She forced herself to stand and with blurry eyes scanned the terrain for them. She didn't even notice the rabbits that lay all around the area, some dead, some dying. Her eyes were only for the two black dogs that lay near the overturned boat, one standing, the other, down.

She approached them. Ayam turned to her with sorrowful eyes, but said nothing.

Idú lay dead beneath his feet. He had drowned before they had reached the shore, exhaustion from the entire day having gotten the better of him. It had always been he who pulled and strained the most. His belly was bloated. His eyes were half-open, and his tongue protruded. Useth trembled as she stood between his head and his forelimbs. 

"This isn't your fault," she said quietly, first to Idú, then to Ayam. "You did your job better than anyone ever could."

Ayam gave another whine. He did not understand her. She spoke in Lapine. Hedgerow was too distant a language, too unemotional. 

"Too much death, Seed," she mumbled, curling up beside Idú's head. With a soft sigh, she drifted off to sleep. Ayam's mournful howling was her lullaby.

***

"Ah, but isn't this warren marvellous, Quillwort-rah?" Elderberry called aloud as they reached the outskirts of Léao-nang, his old, grizzled face looking genuinely cheerful for once. He bounded into the opening from the path of trees, and Quillwort half-chuckled at the sight. Rabbits would always be rabbits. Despite death and ambition and the complication their lives may bring, in the end, safe grass beneath their feet was all they really wanted.

Elderberry stopped and looked back. His joy, by nature, was short-lived. Seed and Nightshade had appeared, and for that moment, he felt a twinge of fear against his spine. For a moment, Quillwort seemed smaller than the two rabbits who were inferior in size to him. He approached them, in time to hear Nightshade ask, "Quillwort…rah…?"

Seed, on Nightshade's other end, felt his heart drop. He remembered telling Nightshade _he_ was the Chief of Primrose-rah. And rabbits never say _rah_ formally…not when they were high-ranking Owsla in the presence of Chiefs. His elbows weakened. His fur stood on end. The situation was thinning his newfound courage, and he was an ordinary rabbit once more, no prince, no leader, ready to bolt at the sense of danger.

He stepped back as Quillwort hopped towards him. The rabbit's eyes hid his intentions, but Seed, having been in this situation before, could think of no other. Nostrils flaring, he pulled back his lips to reveal his teeth…

Quillwort dropped down in front of him and licked his lower jaw.

His ears pricked up. "A slip, Nightshade-rah," Quillwort said, staying crouched in front of Seed. "Seed-rah is Chief."

The mistake was resolved. He who had thrown him out was the first to welcome him back. A smile drifted onto Seed's lips. He was about to speak when a small rabbit appeared nearby, crawling towards them in a pathetic manner.

He turned towards it. Its eyes were enlarged, and its fur was grizzled throughout. "Y-y-you…" it said.

Seed's ears flicked…he looked around, then turned back to the rabbit. "M-me?" he asked.

"Yes." The old rabbit approached him and touched his nose. Seed drew back. It was cold, and the rabbit's gaze was too penetrating, too strange for him to regard.

"You're her son, aren't you?" the rabbit asked.

He lifted his head, unsure of the rabbit's question.

The rabbit smiled softly. "Old heads forget easily, but now, seeing you, I remember her face. Now…I remember her face…" He laughed aloud, his voice breaking through the silence in the air. "Thank Frith. I remember her face now…that's all I need…"

With a soft sigh of contentment, the old rabbit waddled away.

"My home is yours," Nightshade said, walking to Seed's side and breaking his unease. "Ulézenyze's words have broken all my suspicions in you. Welcome, my friends."


	43. The Black Rabbit's Pleasure

** Part 6: The Black Rabbit's Pleasure**

** 43**

It was rare for a rabbit, standing in the summer breeze with thick, moist _ flayfath_ beneath its feet, to contemplate the point of existence itself. But she did. Not even being a high-ranking Owsla, with choice feeding grounds and the roomiest of burrows, made her content. Life felt empty.

"Have ye' ever heard of the story of _Frithlay_, the exiled?" a doe, standing in the midst of a crowd of young rabbits, called aloud. Useth's attention wavered towards her. She was laughing. The younger kittens snuggled against her side, while the older ones respectfully sat a bit of a distance away. They all had bright, expectant looks upon their faces.

"Well then, let me start off by sayin' Frithlay was Elahrairah's son. And never a son there was! When he was born his fur was golden, and his eyes, when they opened…my, but were they as blue as the sky itself!"

"Really…?" one of the kittens asked.

"T'is true, ain't it, Useth?" the doe asked, beckoning to the Captain crouching in the corner. "Tell 'em."

"I suppose," Useth said. She'd heard of the story of Frithlay the Exiled before, but that was a long, long time ago. "Pathun, his fur might as well have been green."

Pathun frowned. "The story goes with _golden_ fur, Useth." She pointed at the confused mass of kittens. "Ah, t'er Inlé with the details—ye've ruined me' story, Useth." She batted the other doe playfully. "Who wants a simpler story?"

The kittens' quizzical expressions did not disappear.

"I know…I'll tell ye' the story of how Nightshade-rah once _almost_ lost his tail!" Pathun cried aloud.

One of the kittens began to cry.

"The story of how Seed-rah almost lost his _head_ would be more kitten-fodder," Useth said with a smirk. "_Hyao, ver sie methai, _Seed…"

"Oops, speak of the Black Rabbit! Kits, how about a trip t'er the lake? We'll go pester Nightshade-rah f'er guides!"

The kittens screamed their joy. Pathun grinned at Useth and left with her crowd.

Useth shook her head and looked up. Seed stood in a corner, his face void of emotion. She sighed inwardly.

_ The Seed I knew would say, "How I almost lost my head, huh…? Lemme tell you the story of how Useth almost lost her…"_

"I n-need you to do a search southwards. I've had…s-strange reports of rabbits from there…start tomorrow." 

Useth did not reply. It seemed to her that he found this disconcerting, for after a moment, he added, "Uh…t-that is all."

She nodded, and crouched back down. The disrespect she was offering him did not bother her. Since he had become Chief of Primrose-rah once more, he had turned cold to her. Why shouldn't she be to him?

"Useth…" he suddenly said, approaching her. "Is everything…a-alright…?"

"Is this all, Seed…?" she asked, her paws stretched out in front of her. 

"W-what do you mean…?"

"After all we've been through—is this all we have to show for it?" She sat up and looked around the place. "Our warren, it's beautiful. And I'm a high Captain. From the measly rank of patroller I've finally become one, and…" She ended with a sigh. 

"I t-thought this was your life…lifelong dream."

"It is, isn't it? Do you know why?" She knew he didn't want a story at the moment, but she didn't care. She shook her head. "My father was an Owsla. He…he wasn't from Inléthlay. He was staying in the warren for a while. Mated with my mother once, so I heard. I never knew him until I was older, when I was walking about the runs and he found me and said, 'Are you Fern's child?' because, he said, I had her face. I was a kitten…less than half a month old. He took me places, called me his daughter…he named me _Useth_, when he found out my mother didn't…didn't call me anything."

She stopped to catch her breath. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Seed crouch down, his jaw set tightly. If he wasn't talking, he was listening—she knew that much. She sighed and continued. "He died when I was…a month old, maybe…? Autumn was almost through. He fought a fox and died for it." She lifted her head, gazing at an imaginary scene that played itself in front of her eyes. "He fought it…he leaped into the air and bit down the fox's shoulder. The fox screamed and tore his body open…from the throat down. He did not die so soon. He burrowed against the fox and tore its face to shreds. He died hanging onto that fox, you know…he never let go…"

She gave a weak laugh. "Do you know the pain of watching someone you care for fight and die in front of your eyes…?"

Seed did not reply.

"You know. You're the only one I know who does. Seed…" She lifted her paw, as if to touch him, but it began to shiver uncontrollably so that she had to put it back down. "He died to save his Chief. He—they called him a hero. And I was the only one who saw him fight. They said he was brave, and all those things…but they never knew _how_ brave, because I was the only one watching then. I…I wanted to be in the Owsla, after that. For his sake. I wanted him to be proud of me, because no one else was. My mother certainly wasn't. Her eyes were always only on Appletree…_the apple of her eye_…" 

She sighed.

"I'm an Owsla now. You gave me one of the highest positions in a warren I never _ dreamed_ I would live in. But you know what…Seed? I thought…I thought this was what would make me happy…"

"Captain…"

She stopped him with a look. "Instead, it was serving _you_," she said, carefully, her eyes boring into his widened ones. "But Seed…" She furrowed her brows. "You cared for me no more than you would have cared to lick a beetle."

"D-do y-you hate me for this…?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I…don't hate you…" She felt her throat tighten. "I love you," she whispered.

He stared at her, in shock, and did so for what seemed like a long enough time. She remained where she was, unsure of what was going on through his head. Finally, his gaping mouth closed, and he cleared his throat. "C-C-Captain…this…is…quite inappropriate." Despite the certainty of his words, he stumbled upon them, and his face had a confused, almost hesitant look to it. "We're…s-strictly on b-business terms only…"

His reply killed her almost instantly. _Once,_ she thought, as she tried to gain some sense of the madness and the longing that spurred through her heart, _you would have called me Useth, leaned against me, told me I was being foolish and that even though you don't love me, because I know you don't…you would have said I was your best friend…like you did once, and never again…_

"Seed…" she said, her own face calm and stony, though her lip trembled, and with a deep sigh, repeated the same words she had spoken to him. "After all we've been through, is this all we have to show for it…? High positions with no family…" She drew back. The madness he wrought had gotten inside of her. His silence was torture…his motionless stance, with no amount of compassion in them, was shredding her sanity into tiny pieces. "…no point in life…" And now she was looking at the horizon, into a decision she thought she should have mad a long time ago, _before he ruined her_. "…and now, no friends."

She took off.

He sat, unmoved by her actions. His jaw trembled and ached to say something aloud, but instead he turned around and padded back into the warren, 

***

She did not run without sense like another rabbit in flight would've. In a few lopes she had slowed down to a trot and regained her calm, and it was as if nothing had happened at all. And it was in this manner that she left Léao-nang's territory, a knowing _hlessi_ once more, though she was lifeless as a dry stream inside. 

And it was, too, in this manner, that she stumbled upon the rabbits that she recognized as her own patrol several days later, and heard them cry out, "Captain, run!" She could not register the words into her mind, and it was only when more rabbits emerged from the bushes that she grew alarmed, for Haini's death had dawned upon her, and so too, had the faces of the rabbits who murdered her and Seed.

***

"Anemone, ye'r work pleases me," Hemlock's deep voice echoed through the burrow. The buck in front of him bowed in response, then stepped back, half-crouched. He was afraid of Hemlock. The rabbit…the rabbit was mad…

***

Hemlock drove his paw deep into the cold water and cursed out loud. "Blasted _ Primrose-rah_," he snarled, whirling around to face the shivering Anemone. "Ye' be sure they hae' taken _this _route?"

"Thou knowest better than I," Anemone bluntly replied, though his eyes were closed, and he could do no more than flinch at his Chief's every word. He had not known Hemlock for that long, having been acquainted with the rabbit only when he arrived in their warren during the spring. At first glance, Hemlock was just like Heather, a pleasant rabbit, his voice half-marred by his heavy accent, but he had a temper that scared him out of his wits. Rampion could not even _ compare_ to Hemlock's anger…

Hemlock sat down. The rabbit was right—he did know better. "Tracks and shit everywhere," he muttered with disdain, looking over the sand. The dark did nothing to conceal what the Primrose-rah rabbits had left behind. And, as it were, the signs all ended by the edge of the lake. They could have gone nowhere but across.

"Searchin' f'er their damn hides dinnae be cuttin' it," Hemlock sighed again. He shook his fur. "Ye' go back tae camp and tell Moonwort he better be gettin' those youngsters intae' shape by mornin'."

"Of course…sir." Anemone gave a bow and hurriedly loped off, adding more furrows to the already-disturbed sand. Hemlock clicked his tongue. The rabbit was a good help, especially since he had begun the campaign to search for the Primrose-rah rabbits' trail. A good quarter and a half of the rabbits with him were no more than six months of age, enthusiastic but young, and they were difficult to manage.

He turned back to the water and started in deep thought. Whatever the rabbits before had done to get across, they sure must have sat here like he was now, and pondered as he did. He bit his lip. "Think, Hemlock," he muttered to himself.

A burning pang of anger hit his heart as he said this. Ah, yes, that blasted Timothy again. He shuddered, the rabbit's bleeding face replacing his own reflection in the water. Knowing it was no more than his own imagination, he cried out aloud, "Aye, ye may laugh now, but wait 'till I get mae' hands on ye'r rabbits. Then I'll be the one laughin'."

He paused, his eyes unblinking. "Curse ye…" he snarled, lifting his paw and striking it across the ground. Sand flew in front of him. "_CURSE YE!_" And then he fell down, panting, and laughing, his irrational mirth strung together with Timothy's name and a promise for the dead rabbit's ultimate damnation.

Anemone watched from afar, and he shuddered. Hemlock, screaming under the hazy moonlight, had become a rabbit that he no longer respected, only feared, and feared greatly.

***

Hemlock knew the world better than many a common rabbit in those places, and he knew that lakes always led to rivers, or something of the sort. So he brought his rabbits along the shore, and for days they travelled in that fashion, until the water narrowed, to a point where they could successfully cross it. From there, they travelled north again, up the shoreline and now reaching the outskirts of Léao-nang's border. They had encountered but one patrol, and it was this that they captured, and to Hemlock, his plans had never gone any better than this.

Anemone gulped. "Ye dinnae hae tae stay," Hemlock told him, and that relieved him. With a quick nod, he loped away.

Hemlock's eyes narrowed as the captured patrol was brought in. Five rabbits, he counted, and all were in perfect health. He approached them and silently sniffed them over up close.

"Din' move," one of his rabbits snarled. The patrol closed their eyes in response, half of them trembling. Hemlock's size and scent terrified them. 

"Hnn…these be rabbits in their Owsla, then," Hemlock said, regarding his own rabbits with a look of disdain. "Fattenin' lumps, ye know?"

"Och, I be hearin' lots o' these warrens these days just draggin' rabbits from their warren outskirts an' shovin' clover up their noses tae make 'em look impressive," someone barked. "Funny, really."

"Who be ye'r leader?" Hemlock asked the pathetic group. They turned towards one rabbit in their midst for a split second. It was Pathun. She had only been assigned the patrol when Useth left, and now faced with Hemlock's proximity, she could do nothing but shiver. Hemlock snorted.

"Aye, ye' lass, as if I'm goin' tae hurt ye'," he muttered.

"Sir, I be thinkin' this un's in charge…" a rabbit whispered to him. They brought Useth out of the hedges. She had been kept out of sight previously, for she did nothing but kick and bite whoever rabbit was holding her down, and had been badly bruised and wounded throughout the process.

Hemlock approached the now-exhausted doe. "They be callin' 'er Cap'n," the rabbit explained. "I figures she's the 'un."

"Tell me, lass," Hemlock said, bringing his face close to Useth's. "Ye'r warren's name?"

She faced him, eyes blazing. Her jaw shivered slightly, but her mouth remained locked. 

"He said speak!" one of the rabbits cried, and lifted his paw to deliver a cuff across her already bleeding haunch.

"Mullein. Dinnae be doin' that," Hemlock growled, and Mullein shrunk back. He turned around. "We'll be showin' our visitors how we be treatin' guests. _With respect_."

He left the prisoners and called on the rest of his rabbits, all of them the youngsters that he'd gathered up from his warren. "Our objective is near. Ye' know what ye' all hae' to do."

The youngsters nodded, for Hemlock's order had been very simple: _nothing but watch._


	44. 

** 44**

Useth awakened with a throbbing headache, and snorted amidst a mouthful of fur. Pathun had been sleeping on top of her head and it was not a pleasant thing to realize.

"Ouch…" Pathun cried, as Useth stood up and sent her falling on top one of their fellow patrollers. The buck did not give a sign of protest as Pathun landed, waking only to give them a sleepy look before resuming his dreams.

"Be nice," Pathun muttered.

Useth smirked at her for a moment, then sighed. "It's nightfall," she said. They had been locked up in the burrow since ni-Frith, and her legs were cramping up beneath her. "I need water."

"We need lots o' things, but who's givin' 'em t'er us?" one buck groaned. "Ye'r foot, Strawberry. It tastes like mushroom."

"Mushroom is _good_," Useth muttered.

"Lick _his_ foot then," the buck, Hehlant, haughtily replied.

"So Seed's not the only rabbit who eats weird things," Pathun sneered. "Why, I saw 'im the other day lickin' a beetle."

A wave of pain hit Useth. She lifted her head.

"Why did ye' leave?" Pathun asked, crouching beside her. "Useth, ye'r Seed's favourite Captain. Everyone knows that. Ye' know how he demoted that Elderberry guy just t'er get ye' were ye' are."

"Were," Useth lazily remarked. She sighed. "Pathun…I don't want it there."

"Does," Hehlant muttered.

"Listen, I don't want to talk about it," Useth snapped. Her temper flared.

"Sorry!" Hehlant cried, and dove straight into where he thought was the safest place to hide…the area beneath Strawberry's foot. "Jeesh, ye' think ye'd have been nicer after ye left. Ye'r still a meanie."

She ignored him. "Don't worry about that. Worry about how we're going to get out of here. And what in Frith's name they're planning to do to us." Upon mentioning _ them_, she turned to her hind and licked at the crusted blood. She had not told her companions about her recognition of a few of the rabbits. Haini's death was something as shrouded to them as the friendship Seed and she had shared, and knowing about it would have sent them tearing across the walls. She knew them that much.

Pathun shrugged and bent over next to her, helping her clean the wound. "Ye' just don't know when t'er quit," Pathun muttered. "I mean, fight those idiots, yes, like ye'r not lucky t'er live. I could swear ye' were a buck."

"Lemme check…" Hehlant popped in, a malicious grin on his face.

"One more remark out of you…" Useth snarled, and Hehlant covered his face with Strawberry's limb, which earned him a well-deserved kick.

Pathun looked at them, confused, before Hehlant's joke earned meaning, and she promptly fell over, rolling around the floor in disgust. "Blech. Yeugghk! Hehlant! Pervert!"

"Shush," Useth suddenly ordered. The rabbits with her fell silent.

A shadow passed over them, and one of Hemlock's rabbits arrived. It was a young rabbit, with a face that would have been quite handsome had he not been trying too hard to twist it with rage. He looked at the prisoners with contempt, then said, "I be Buckthorn, Hemlock's eldest son. Thus, ye should follow me, or ye be bearin' the wrath o' my father."

Hehlant sneered, and mockingly lip-synched Buckthorn's words. Pathun gave him a piercing look.

"What do you need from us?" Useth asked. She tried to hide it, but she was now afraid of the rabbit that kept them prisoner. _His children aren't afraid to hold a straight face in front of six Owsla_. What more to expect from him? His own gaze had made her shiver.

"A lot," Buckthorn replied, before showing his teeth. "All of ye' follow me…except ye'r Captain."

"Me?" Pathun asked.

"_Es marli tharn_," Hehlant sighed in exasperation. "Ye were too chicken t'er accept ye were in charge o' us. Of course it's Useth. Ye were never promoted."

"Rub it in," Pathun muttered. She furrowed her brows towards Useth, who remained crouching and quiet in the corner, before hopping out. The rest of the patrol followed.

"Stay 'ere," Buckthorn growled before leading the Léao-nang patrol out into the surface.

***

"Remember when we came here?" Nightshade asked, moving a pile of stones in front of the old rabbit Ulézenhyze, grinning broadly.

The old rabbit looked at him with pricked ears. "What…?" he asked.

Nightshade shook his head. "When we first came here, you old son of Elahrairah. It was oh…so very long…seasons and seasons ago. You and I were both really young. Remember?" 

He knew Ulé didn't. The ages had been tough on the rabbit, and he had grown old far too fast. His mind was frailer than it had been before, and he remembered little, if any at all. "We were born here, you chickweed," he told Nightshade, almost in a scolding manner. 

Nightshade laughed aloud. "Whatever you say! There! Five of my stones against yours! I'm afraid you've lost this round."

"Those are _my_ stones…" Ulézenhyze said, yawning. He gave them a quick shove with his paw, scattering them all over the burrow floor, then went to a corner and fell asleep. Nightshade grinned once more. Ulé was no more than a harmless old rabbit to the rest of the warren, but to him, he would always be his most trusted friend.

He kicked the stones towards the corner of the burrow and was covering them up with dirt when Pathun's young face appeared from the entrance. He stared back at her for a quick moment, then said, "What now, young scallywag?"

"If ye' failed t'er remember, sir, ye promoted me t'er Owsla officer a couple of _ Inlérao _ago."

"Have I?" Nightshade blinked. "I remember Gladiolus telling me he'll never put that third litter of Mustard's into _any_ warren program. Too damn annoying, he said."

"Oh sir," Pathun laughed. "Both Hehlant and I are in." She flicked her ears. "Could ye…er…Captain Gladiolus…" She stopped, half-trembling.

Nightshade hopped out into the run. "Is something wrong?"

"My patrol and I…we sort of stumbled int'er a problem. About the area we were sent t'er scout. We need some rabbits t'er…we need ye'r superiors t'er check out what we've found."

"Haven't you better report to Seed-rah? I'm pretty sure it was he who assigned you to your patrol." 

Pathun coughed. "Ye are my Chief, sir."

"I'm pretty sure I mentioned to the warren that Seed should be respected as Chief as I am." He shook his head.

"Sir, we're still different warrens."

He gave her a deep smile. "Oh, Pathun, we are more similar than you shall ever think. Go to Seed-rah. He will handle this better than I could."

***

Pathun had been hesitant to call on Seed, and the whole time she followed his limping rear from the tunnels and to the surface she was twitching with anxiety. She had trusted Nightshade-rah would be the one to follow her—he would have known what to do. As for this young Chief, Seed, though she obeyed him as willingly as she obeyed any of her superiors, he lacked the air of confidence and skill that would have earned him her trust. 

He had only called on several officers to accompany her—most of them from his own warren. She had suggested calling up on Captain Gladiolus, but he refused her at blank point, saying that even if the matter was important enough that a Chief needed to be called in, it wasn't so important as to involve the whole warren, certainly. Certainly.

She sighed.

"Where to?" one of the officers asked impatiently. She sniffed and began to lead the way, off across the hill and into the woods, leaving the warren behind her. The small group followed behind, Seed at the very back. "Careful now…" she said. "It's quite dangerous…"

They had reached a corner of the thicket that was often overlooked by the Owsla during their routine patrols, simply because no one could get there without passing through areas where they could be seen. Or so was the common belief. As Pathun's words left her mouth, the bushes all around them rustled, and several rabbits closed in on the small group in ambush.

Seed gave a startled squeal and, as his first instinct had always been, turned to flee. But he hadn't gone very far when a huge rabbit blocked his path. He squealed again and was turned over with a heavy cuff. The rabbit smiled at him grimly.

He jumped back to his feet and gave another limping run towards the other direction. The rabbit gave chase, but before Seed could be reached, an officer blocked the path and was promptly torn to shreds. Seed crouched back and watched in horror. He was amidst a battlefield.

"Watch them, watch them, little ones," Hemlock said, cocking his head over to his younger rabbits and smiling. "Once ye has seen how they battle, ye shall know how tae defeat them. Ye shall know how tae lead the others intae victory."

His students nodded sagely.

"Now, here be comin' the fun part," he suddenly said. He turned towards Pathun, who had been crouching in a corner, fixated upon the battle as Seed was. "Ye!" he cried. The doe turned to him, eyes wide with horror. "Fight!"

She did not seem to understand.

"Fight them, fool!" As he said this, he turned to a group of small rabbits huddled behind him. "And ye' lot as well!"

They stayed, unmoved by his commands.

He smiled.

Several heavy rabbits appeared. Useth limped behind them, her hind leg shattered with a fresh injury. Her old patrol looked at her dishevelled condition in shock, unable to comprehend why their Captain had been hurt so. 

Hemlock solved their confusion with four, simple words. "Fight, or she dies."

Pathun tore towards the nearest of Seed's rabbits.

The rest of the patrol gave a cry and leaped into the battle as Pathun did. They went for the throats of their own comrades, their limbs shaky as they fought. The blood between them flew like tears. They had no choice. Hemlock had taken the liberty of using an Owsla's greatest weakness—his leader.

And Seed—no one cared about Seed, although as the battle raged on it was obvious his own, pathetic side would win. His still outnumbered Hemlock's meagre, exhausted group, and as the minutes passed by, even Hemlock could see that he was going to lose. He cried to his youngsters, whom he was unwilling to lose in any event, and bade them to follow him. He ordered the rest of his rabbits to escape as they saw fit.

"Stop the battle!" Useth, from her weakened state, called out. "Stop it! Pathun, Hehlant, Strawberry…! He's gone…!"

Her patrol drew back. Hemlock's fighters were all either dead or escaped. They stood there, staring at their comrades, a few of which they had been forced to kill, and panted. Useth struggled towards them and fell down a few feet away.

"Seed…" she said, looking towards her best friend. Their eyes met, and locked. Unblinking. His jaw quivered slightly in their ethereal gaze.

Then, his eyes hardened, and turning to Useth's patrol, said, "Kill the traitors."

His rabbits, hardly amused by the ambush and slaughter, did not hesitate to obey. 

"Run!" Useth cried.

Hehlant and Strawberry were the first to withdraw.

"Seed! They only fought because of me…" she called, shaking, her bloody limbs trying to support her body. 

"They would rather choose another over their Chief," he said, watching with satisfaction as his rabbits gave chase to her own. "You took no part—you'll be spared."

Behind her, Useth heard a loud shriek of pain. A shiver ran down her spine. It was Pathun's voice.

"How could you?" she asked, a tremble in her outraged voice. She did not look back—only straight at him. Shaking, almost crawling, she went past him. "From this moment on—regard me as your enemy."

Biting her lip in pain, she turned around and stumbled away, ignoring the dead rabbits that lay strewn in her path, barely even recognizing the one that had once been Pathun. It was the last straw, she thought. Seed had done more damage that he could ever possibly reconcile. 

***

Hemlock's paw gave the rabbit in front of him a powerful shove. "Move it, lass," he said in an angry whisper. "We din' hae time."

The rabbit groaned. The exhaustion she felt showed through her shaking haunches and the quick twitching of her eyelids. For a moment, she looked like she was going to give way and fall to the ground. 

"Lass, ye dinnae be hae'in a choice. T'is either this or…" He stopped and looked back. There was no need to voice out what the doe already knew. It would only increase her fears and render her immoveable. "Move, lass," he repeated. Then, he turned away from her to round up the rest of the stragglers.

"Hemlock!" one buck from the back of the group called, bounding to him. "There's…they seem to have tracked us. I don't know. I thought I heard something walking nearby. Maybe you should…?"

"I'll see tae' it." He bounded the opposite direction the group was taking, his heavy paws bringing him as fast as they could manage.

There, he stopped, ears pricked in quiet concentration. The surroundings seemed quiet enough. Here and there, a tree branch moved to allow the wind passage through, but there did not seem to be any sign of life save a butterfly in a distance. He sat down and watched as it fluttered towards him, floating in circles above his head, until it finally exhausted itself and settled down on his ear. He did not move.

A rabbit's cough exploded into the air. The butterfly wafted away, a blue spot against the darkness of the wood. Hemlock looked up and saw the last rabbit he had expected.

Useth had burst from the bushes and now lay on the ground, eyes glazed with white. Hemlock hid his amazement like a true Nizorner and approached her slowly. She was oblivious to his presence. Her coughing continued to split the silence.

He touched her head, and as he was doing so, several more rabbits arrived. They, too, he recognized…members of Useth's patrol, he recalled. He looked at them quizzically. They did not look like they intended to attack. They were all sitting, panting and quiet.

After a moment, Useth dragged herself up, and turned to look at Hemlock. His face was straight, awaiting whatever explanation she had to give.

"We…want to join you," she said.

He wrinkled his lips and laughed.

When he was through, she repeated her words. "We want to join you."

"You don't care that I intend to destroy your warren?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. A smile was on the side of his face.

She looked at him. As her eyes met his, Hemlock's mockery was shattered. They were too honest, and to him, it seemed, too sad. For a moment, he thought they reflected the image of a dog.

"I don't care…about anything…that much anymore," she said. "Let us join. We bring you no trouble."

"Hemlock! I…!" Buckthorn bounded towards them. At the sight of Useth and the remainder of her patrol, he doubled back and lifted his paw with a snarl. "The intruders! Ye'll regret the day ye…"

"I admire ye'r brawns, but din' be admirin' ye'r brains f'er a while," Hemlock said, snorting. He got up and pressed his nose against Useth's ear. "Ah well. Hurry up. I din' hae time tae waste."

He turned away from the confused Buckthorn and headed off towards the path his group had taken. Behind, Useth heaved a deep sigh and scrambled after him. She kept her silence. The rest of her patrol exchanged wry glances, then followed her lead.

***

She had left her warren out of kindness.

She had fled from the next out of fear.

She abandoned Nur-Lath for love.

And now, as her every step took her further from the fourth warren of her two-year life, there was nothing but despair left. She had thrown all away, for nothing. She ambled beside Hemlock in a dejected state, knowing only the feel of the wind against her pointed ears.

A cry of a kestrel rang high in the air. She almost disregarded it, but out of habit, she lifted her head for a quick moment. "Aye, well, ye'r right," Hemlock said, breaking from his steady hop. "Out f'er cover, me' laddies! T'is a mighty fine meal he'll be makin' of ye' bairns if ye din' mind yer'selves." At his command, the rabbits behind him spread out, making for the nearest bush or tree. "We be waitin' f'er it tae pass," he said, crouching down himself. He was too large for a kestrel to pick up. It was the youngsters he was worried about.

"That's not what I thought should concern you," Useth suddenly said. She lifted both paws in the air. "It came from Léao-nang's direction."

"So?" Hemlock asked, licking one paw. "It can be comin' from any direction t'will like. An' t'is passin' us by, lass…nae need tae worry…"

"It's passing us by because it already has a rabbit in its claws."

Hemlock froze. Useth almost smiled. She knew he understood, but after a quick moment, thought it amusing to explain further. "Léao-nang's a leafy warren, as one might say. It's mighty hard for a kestrel to pick up a rabbit from there. Ah, but from the open like this? It's easy. And, as you know, _you_ haven't lost any rabbits yet…"

She had barely finished when Hemlock jumped up and started stamping against the ground, hard. "Run, run, ye' fools!" he cried. "The blasted warren's trailin' us! RUN!"

His young rabbits could only look at him, confused.

"RUN!" he yelled again.

As if by command, he saw a larger group of rabbits heading towards them. Hemlock's breath turned cold. He had been in an open battle like this before. That had ended in travesty. He thought that once he had re-sharpened his claws, he would be able to face every battle like he had the one in the woods, with confidence. But now, once again faced with enemies of a larger size and strength than his, he felt trapped. His paws had turned into jelly.

"…run…" he whispered, just as the group reached his, and Buckthorn fell flat on his face, crushed to the ground by two rabbits twice as large as he was. His blood was the first to spill on the field.

Those who escaped that day can never fully recall the details of the battle, only that it ended like all the other battles in the past: lives wasted with a single blow, and the slaughter so bloody that many of the _elil_ that passed by later said, "If only we all stopped killing each other, then maybe Frith's setting would not be so red."

***

Only a handful of rabbits remained, from Hemlock's group, and many were the veterans that he had brought along. He looked shamefully at the six young rabbits that survived, each of them sobbing like kittens, their words echoing the fate of their lost companions.

"Harden up," Hemlock said with a snarl, cuffing the nearest with his paw. When the young rabbit did not cease from its crying, he cuffed it again, harder. "HARDEN UP! Och, ye' lads! Ye'r nerves are weaker than dandelion stalks! If ye' din' be so scared we might hae saved a few more o' ye'!"

"Let it go, Hemlock," Moonwort muttered. "We hae escaped wi' our lives."

"Mae future Cap'ns…" he said, with gritted teeth.

"Ye' hae several here." Moonwort got up, though it pained him to do so. His sides were torn to ribbons. "An' they know more, then they would hae if all had gone as we planned. T'is not tae say t'is good…just that we hae tae make the best out o' what we got." He placed a paw on the head of the rabbit that Hemlock had cuffed earlier. "Ye' bonnie lads, and ye' lass…ye' know now the heartaches that come with war. Instead o' lettin' it be the sufferin' o' ye', let it make ye stronger. Now ye' know, that if ye din' fight, nothin' will come out o' it. This is war, me' buckoes. War din' forgive no one."

"But…" the young buck muttered, his eyes turned away from Moonwort. "We started the war. _We_ want the war. T'is our beginnin', an' ye' say we hae no choice but tae fight in it?"

Moonwort backed off. This was Hemlock's explanation.

The huge rabbit snorted. "_Our_ beginnin'?" he thundered. The rabbit flattened himself against the ground—so did the others. Their trembling increased. "Nay, mae' lad, or hae ye' forgotten what ye' hae been taught?" 

He began to pace around. "Och, but o' course! Ye'll say that t'is all in the past, t'is all nae longer o' our concern! Cherry was thrown out in favour of Primrose, though this din' hae tae be done. Cherry _was_ the rightful Chief o' Forest."

And he started a story, that which has been told by Betony, and told to _him_ not by Cherry but by an old rabbit that had lived in Forest and whose name had been forgotten beneath the generations of rabbit-folk that had never really cared for the elder for anything more but the stories they tell. 

And so it happened, in the past, when Bearberry was Chief, that he mated with his brother's daughter, against her will. She was shamed by this because she did not like stirring up gossips within the warren, especially with her family as high-ranking as it was. Her father did not make things any better, accusing her of seducing Bearberry, saying it was just not right, for what would the warren think of a Chieftain family whose males mated with rabbits that were practically their own daughters? So she hid in the deepest of the warren, in the loneliest of borrows, away from her family and friends, and when she gave birth to the Chief's first litter, a week earlier than normal, she told no one.

But when Bearberry's Captain of Owsla, Lichen, happened to come by on a routine patrol around the burrows a few days later, he knew her instantly, and the litter that lay mewling by her feet. Without her approval, he killed off all but the healthiest rabbit, and then set out to tell the warren the Chief had his heir—at almost exactly the same time Bearberry was announcing Primrose's birth into the world.

Cherry, by his purer blood and by tradition, was the rightful Chief of Forest. Hemlock, standing before his rabbits in the splitting image of his dead grandsire, wanted nothing less than what was denied to Cherry, and taken away from him when he had finally won it back.

But most of all, he wanted revenge. Once, for himself, for the shame and the fear that he faced in the presence of Timothy-_rah_. But now…

"T'is was nae our concern in the past, o' course. Nae, until we were driven tae the brink o' death when we wandered as _Nizorn_, and nae, until ye' saw ye'r brothers an' sisters die beside ye' on the field, murdered by rabbits who knew they were kittens yet did nothin' tae save them. T'is always rightfully ours. Every day, Frith proves it tae us…"

***

"Useth."

She snapped awake from her trance. "What is…" she began, turning towards the voice that had called out her name. Then, she froze. Anemone was sitting beside her, eyes wide and barely blinking.

"You," she said.

"I take it thou hast not been successful in finding Seed's whereabouts?" he asked. He did not seem too unhappy about it.

She flicked her ears. "And I take it you've been captured by these barbarians, too?"

"Thou might say that. Though of course, I am no more a prisoner than the Captain who captured thee."

"Oh. Did you leave Nur-Lath?" She did not seem very much interested by the conversation. She did not seem very much interested about anything at all.

"Comfrey and Rampion are dead," he said in a low whisper. Then, he butted Useth's face with his. "Nizorn has taken over, but…I don't care. I've found thee finally, when I thought I wouldn't."

She crouched down, ignoring him, and gave a deep sigh.

"What's…wrong?"

Oh, but she was so happy to finally see Anemone again, she really was. They had shared so much together, when she was in Nur-Lath, and he had been a good friend to her. She almost wished she could show him her joy, wished she could throw away Seed and be happy where she was. "Seed…" she said, and he gave a short sigh. "He…is in Léao-nang, the warren that had merged with Primrose-rah and is the one yours is in odds with. He is…an officer there."

"We are trying to invade it, to make it ours," he said. 

"Why?" she asked, dully.

"Thou hast heard Hemlock-rah's story."

"I have heard it many times, though in a different point of view."

He smiled. "Then maybe thou couldst remove my confusions? I do not at all understand this Primrose-rah-Forest-Nizorn-Quiefrain fiasco."

"Quieflain," she corrected. She flicked her ears backward. "You've heard the story, now I'll add to it. Primrose was chosen Chief, and I think Cherry left, or was driven off…he found Quieflain which is just above Forest I believe and won it over by killing the Chief. Later, he took back Forest by invading it. Ghost, Primrose's grandson, formed an alliance with my home-warren Inléthlay, and took back Quieflain and Forest." She paused, long enough to lick her lips and eat a bite of grass.

"Ghost left Quieflain to Inléthlay, but it later became independent after our then-Chief Clover gave it to one of his sons. And that's that."

"And Hemlock is Cherry's descendant," Anemone finished for her.

"I should guess so."

"Anemone!"

The rabbit straightened up. Hemlock had trudged over to them, his head held low. "We be goin' soon. T'is ye'r duty tae make sure what we hae makes it back tae the warren."

Anemone gave a gracious nod and hopped off without another word. As he disappeared, Useth sank down under Hemlock's hostile stare. "What is it?" she asked, after a moment.

"Are ye' hurt?" he asked.

She had a cut on her paw. Other than that, she was untouched. Most of the fighters had ignored her, probably out of recognition and the assumption that she was still on their side. "No," she replied. She heaved a sigh. "Your kittens are dead," she pointed out, after a moment.

He bared his teeth at her. 

"_Frith lay hay, an thum lay thum,_" she quoted.

Her response made his stiffened muscles loosen, and now he laughed. The sun was setting. "_E lay zoth_," he said, pushing her forward. "T'is why a'fore next summer ends, ye'r old warren will be mine, an' mae Lord Frith din' be doin' nothin' else but watch…"

***

"I don't understand," Nightshade said, rubbing his front paws together. Clustered all around him were the leaders of the allied warrens of Primrose-rah and Léao-nang. "That…mob…of rabbits. They attacked us?"

"We've sent a patrol t'er get them," Gladiolus nodded firmly. The Captain gave a wide yawn. "T'is a small patrol. Nothin' too big." He passed a look towards the corner where Primrose-rah's rabbits sat. "_Aythirah_ sirs? T'is mighty true, an' this meeting isn't as needed as ye' made it seem. We don't need all these rabbits, certainly."

There was a slight silence, marred only by the nervous fidgeting coming from Seed's corner. Finally, Quillwort stood up.

"I know those rabbits."

Nightshade flicked his ears.

"From descriptions," Quillwort continued. "They looked…and I know they _are_…they're the rabbits that killed my Chief." His voice was full of grief. He splayed his limbs forward, as if to attack an invisible enemy in front of him—his teeth were exposed. "I know," he said carefully. Then, with a great deal of effort, he began to tell the tale that had been woven into their lives since the year before. The Léao-nang rabbits' eyes filled with wonderment. They did not know why Primrose-rah came to be there, only that Nightshade let them in without question of their past.

The old Chief's eyes clouded over as Quillwort ended his story with Timothy's demise. "I don't know what happened," Quillwort replied regretfully. "We left him while the enemy tracked him down, to save ourselves. I wished I could have died with him, but he left…he left me in the warren's care." He turned to Seed, who had also been dreadfully silent throughout the whole telling. "He left me in his son's care."

Nightshade moved slightly. "You are telling me then that this warren…_Nizorn_…has been tracking you for revenge."

"Get out of our warren!" one of the Léao-nang Captains cried, standing up in outrage. "T'is not our battle…!"

"Quiet, Beechnut," Nightshade said, with a disapproving click of his tongue. "We have merged with Primrose-rah. It is our battle as well as theirs."

"But…"

"With all due respect, Nightshade, I think we've right destroyed 'em," Gladiolus said with another yawn. "The rabbit fled but from what I've heard most of 'em rabbits were youngsters. Our patrol could get them and when they do that's that last we'll be hearin' from 'em."

"I don't think so," Quillwort muttered. "No. Their Chief was strong. Their rabbits were strong. That…whatever it was—is only a warning to us." He lifted his ears. "We will have to prepare for war."

The burrow was silent again. Nightshade's breathing was heavy.

"War," he muttered dully. 

"We don't have enough rabbits," Gladiolus said. He turned sharply to his side, where Beechnut crouched. "How many competent fighters do we have?"

"Remember that bush near 'em southern holes? The one the does call Winter's Child? Yes, we've about as much fighters as 'em leaves on that blasted plant." The buck thumped his leg against the ground. "An' we have as much does as me' toes, so I'm thinkin' the youngsters we have that we might be able t'er train f'er that isn't a lot…"

"We have more fighters," Quillwort said. "I'll begin preparations for their training—for the training of all our competent bucks, in fact." He paused. "By the Chiefs' leave, of course."

"A good lot of the bloody patrollers would be flattened by those Nizorners, I'll bet you that," Carrot huffed. He had been Patrol Captain since Useth left. "Elderberry sure as heck didn't care very much for our muscle or fighting skills, I can tell you that."

"Uh…you might _not_ be surprised, but I didn't train our sentries very much, either," Bracken pointed out. "We were after all, quite a bit busy trying to uh…find a place to live in. And running from _elil_, and whatnot." He gave a smirk. "I've only been assigned to Captain of an area I don't belong to because there's no one better at that time."

"Ditto," Cotton said, lifting his paws.

"Oh _Frith_," Quillwort gasped.

"Most of the rabbits that have been _properly_ trained, of course, are dead or too old to fight without killing themselves," Bracken continued, ignoring the stress that was building up on his Captain. "We…we would have really, _really_ tried to train the rabbits along the way, but we were too inexperienced. Just dodging _elil_. Way too busy to teach the younger rabbits, you know. Not that we even had _that_ much born. So we really don't have _that _much more fighters. Primrose-rah's Elite Owsla has long been gone."

"Blast." Quillwort sat down again. "If only the elders were here. Dog's-Tail, especially. And Burnet." He paused. "Even Dandelion."

"The first two…are both dead?" Nightshade suddenly spoke up, stirring the leaders of Primrose-rah from their seemingly private conversation.

"They're all dead, I'm afraid," Quillwort sighed. "Dog's-Tail…he could train better fighters than any I've known. And Burnet's…well…his brains are brighter than a man, so they tell us. With those two, we could win this in no time…"

"No use hoping for the missing to return."

Seed's voice broke their chatter. The blunt way he spoke made them all turn to him, crouching alone, eyes lowered and brooding. "We have…what we have. If Bracken can't train fighters, then he'll just have to learn. We all have to learn."

The rabbits shuffled their paws.

"My Captains and yours will work together according to their department," Nightshade finally said. He nodded. "We will hold together, cancel out each other's weaknesses so that only the strength remains."

"How do we know t'is war?" Gladiolus asked. "They made no claim. We don't even know if they _have_ more rabbits than we do…"

There was a slight scrabbling, and a few hushed whispers began to reverberate across the darkness that engulfed them. Everyone seemed to agree on Gladiolus' words. There was no reason to strike at what was not there. Quillwort, seeing the sudden opposition, rose and an argument broke up. The quiet meeting was thrown into chaos.

Only Nightshade and Seed remained untouched, the two Chieftains staring at each other in silent comprehension of what they intended to do and what was going to be done. And Quillwort, wise in the way of Chiefs, saw this in the midst of his arguing and stopped. His leg went down hard against the ground, thrice.

At once, the commotion died, all rabbits stopping to stare at each other. Seed caught the drift and moved forward. His voice was deep, and steady. He had learned well over the seasons, knew now the power that a rabbit could have with words. "We will prepare. Enemies or no. And then, we will fight."

He sat down again. "You may all go."

One by one, the Captains left. Seed turned to Nightshade and noticed the rabbit's uneasiness. "What's wrong?" he asked, nudging the rabbit's ear.

"I don't want a war," Nightshade replied, plain and simple. "I don't want a war."

"I thought you agreed with me."

"I did. I just…" Nightshade sank down, his body falling against the dirt with a thud. "Oh Frith," he whispered. "War took her. War took her. War took her."

Seed did not understand him. But when he voiced out his confusion, there was no Nightshade left to reply—he was all alone in the burrow.


	45. 

** 45**

One could, if he wanted to, stand over the highest point in Nur-Lath, and cry out loud, and his voice would come soaring back as if being repeated by someone else. The native Nur-Lathans had a myth to explain the strange phenomenon, one hardly accepted by the straightforward Nizorners. Nevertheless, it was still in the works during that mid-summer afternoon when a young voice cried aloud, "Harr, harr, harr, Hylie! _Dayn hli! Dayn!_" and was immediately followed by, "_Dayn hli dayn…!"_

"_A lay zayn dayn!_" The response was mechanical, and a bit annoyed, and was quickly followed by a young doe of about three months of age, bounding across the feeding grounds and stepping over the elders in a frenzy. She was extremely dark in colour, her ears being strangely black-tipped. A white blaze ran across her face, dividing it in equal halves, and ending with a white muzzle.

She reached the top of the gorge and was met by her cousin, an eccentric sort of doe whose ears were twice as long as her face and whose mischievousness was _hrair_ times more. "Well, ye' certainly took a while," the doe said, moving her jaw slightly in a strange smirk. She tapped her leg against the ground. "Well, no worries. I can listen tae all the explanations ye' can give."

"Ye'r nae princess, Hahean," the dark doe laughed. She flicked her ears, then lasped back into her Nur-Lath accent. "Though thou certainly acts like it."

"_Och_, t'is thy father who treats _thee_ like a princess," Hahean said, doing as she did. "An' yet t'is mine who is Chief, Hy-lien."

"_Ochh_," Hy-lien repeated. "My father was, t'is only that he stepped aside for thy Hemlock."

"And a lot of good that did him." Hahean laughed, heartily. She was a heavyset doe, and had a heavyset voice. Her mother had named her _Hahean_, which in Lapine meant, "Enough," and it was true, as she was certainly Bthas' last kitten. 

"Where didst thou wanted to take me?" Hy-lien asked, changing the subject.

"How old are we, Hy-lien?"

"As old as time itself, yet as young as a newborn kit," Hy-lien replied soulfully, fluttering her ears as she spoke.

"Nay, though t'is true, thou hast wrinkles already. Move, my old geezer," and Hy-lien rolled her eyes at Hahean's butchering of the romantic Nur-Lath dialect. "And let us explore the lands beyond our reach, fe'r we are young, an' should be true tae ourselves..."

"Ye' din' say…" Hy-lien gasped. "No, Frith, no. Ye'r not plannin' tae drag me along explorin' out o' the warren boundaries, are ye'…?"

"Technically, t'is not, as the warren 'boundaries' ye' speak of are many _ hrair _upon _hrair_ hops away…"

"Well, the boundaries our elders set for us…" Hy-lien retorted. She spun around, once, and then began to stamp her foot in earnest. "Ye' know t'is military grounds out of 'ere! Trainin', fightin', all that stuff. We might be mistaken f'er a bunch o' _hlessil_. Killed, more like it. Ye' know how tough they are with spies…"

"Spies, smies, pies," Hahean said. She began a slow yet deliberate descent from the ravine that overlooked the communal grounds, and knew Hy-lien had no choice but to follow. She was chuckling as she walked.

"Thy head does thee little good," Hy-lien muttered under her breath.

"My head is enough to give me eyes tae see where t'er feed," Hahean replied, before promptly stopping to give chase to a butterfly.

They crossed over the borders that had been assigned as off-limits to anyone beyond the Owsla regiment. Hahean, who led the way as she always did, noted that there really was no difference from within and beyond the boundaries, save for a few scatterings of dung, which she perceived as normal. "My Frith, ye'r too loud," was all Hy-lien could say.

She bent down to take a bite off a plant hiding underneath a tree root, waiting for Hahean's reply. When she did not hear one within the next minute or so, she looked up, and suddenly realized she was all alone. Hahean had probably been distracted by something trivial and had ran off, forgetting all about her.

"Sometimes, I feel like I don't exist," Hy-lien groaned. She began to walk after Hahean's scent, whilst calling aloud her cousin's inscrutable name—which, she remembered vaguely, had made several rabbits in the past think that she was driving a buck-friend away. She had gotten used to the questions after a while—or maybe the rabbits just got to know Hemlock's daughter a wee bit better. It had ceased to bother her for a while now.

Hahean's scent disappeared when the rain fell. Hy-lien groaned louder, and lifted her head up to catch the torrents upon her face. "Why, why now?" she asked herself, and resigned to her fate, sinking her haunches against the rapidly softening soil.

"Are you lost?" a voice asked.

She looked up. A doe was standing nearby, wet and dishevelled as she now was. Like Hahean, she was a heftier doe than usual, though she was of course more refined (Hahean was too fat for her own good). Her ears were pointed at the top.

"I ah…" she stammered, expecting no one to actually hear her. She was in deep trouble now, she thought. There were no real _hlessil_ near the warren. They were all killed or driven away before they could reach inside the territory, and the territory was _huge_. Any rabbit she'd see while she was here was a rabbit of the warren, and they would know she was not an Owsla and send her back to her father—something that meant a good deal more trouble for her than for Hahean, whose parents didn't care squat.

"I'm…kinda…my Dad…brought me…tae watch the Owsla…and I got lost…yes, lost." Hy-lien swallowed. "Ummm…"

"The warren's pretty near, and as for watching the Owsla—there's nothing to watch 'round here, unless you mean watching bored guards stand around do nothing. Training's been cancelled for the day. The Captains thought the soldiers needed a bit of rest." The rabbit moved forward, and then Hy-lien realized her mistake—the rabbit was just as thin as many of the does she knew—it was just the hard-edged expression she had that made her seem so…she didn't know how else to place it…buck-like. A cold, harsh expression, one that could give the same feeling as looking straight at a well-sharpened claw.

Without thought, she suddenly started forward and asked, "Are ye' okay?" She caught herself only after she'd said it, and felt very ashamed of what she did. "I mean…"

"What _do_ you mean?" the rabbit asked, sitting down, uncaring of the mud that had replaced the soil where they had been standing on. "I have the time."

"I mean…ye' look…" She was a youngster, and could only make out one word. "Weird."

"Like?"

"Like ye'r angry. An' sad. At the same time." Hy-lien stopped herself too late once more. She did not intend to speak so harshly of the doe, but that was her trait. Her mother was the same.

The doe nodded simply, and stood, as if their talk was done. She began to walk away, saying at the same time, "If you wish to go back to the warren, follow me."

"Mae' cousin…she's still here…'round somewhere…"

"You talk like him."

"What?"

"Are you related to Hemlock…?"

"He's mae' uncle." Hy-lien bounded close to the doe. "Why?"

"Tell me. What do you know of him?" The doe's ears drooped, and now she seemed less angry, more sad, and her eyes spoke of loss and a sorrow that had no end. 

"He's Chief of Nizorn, our warren," she replied. She stepped back, considering the doe's question. That was not what she wanted to know. "He's…strange. Kind and cruel. He's not very fond of me, so maybe ti's just me. He's tough and strict and he gets everything he wants…"

"Aye," the doe muttered. "He will get everything he want, won't he…?"

She did not understand, and did not reply. The doe, quiet now, nudged her and led her back to the outskirts of the warren, where Hahean was waiting patiently. And then, the doe went back into the rain, her body nothing more but a drooping figure that Hy-lien thought of as withered tree in mid-summer.

***

"Och, well, ye' hae' a lot o' explainin' tae do, young lass," said her father, standing rigid and tall by the burrow entrance where he greeted her the moment she was home. The buck's face was mirthless—Hy-lien knew, if she didn't play her bobstones straight, that she was going to get into more trouble than what she accounted for.

She slunk back and began to edge forward, her ears folded. "I…uh…" she stammered, crawling close against her father's forepaws. "Got…lost..."

"Well, t'was information that Hahean half-deafened the warren with. An' across the Owsla territory, too?" The buck shook his head. "What were ye' in search for, bucks?"

"Father!" she snapped back in surprise. Then, a little quieter, she said, "T'was not so. Hahean dragged me out there. T'was not mae' fault."

"Ye'r mother was worried sick about ye," her father said. "Go and apologize tae her."

"An' tae ye?"

"Seein' ye' well is all I need." And then her father took off, his great, heavy leaps echoing against the burrow walls even as he disappeared completely out of her sight.

She gave a sigh and scuttled deeper into the burrow. From the corner, she scented her mother, who, ecstatic with relief, began to lick and groom her as if she was naught but a kitten strayed from her nest. Hy-lien, muttering the apology her father made her do, sank down, and began to doze under the familiar warmth and comfort.

As she dreamt, though, a feeling of nausea came over her, and when she opened her eyes for a brief moment she thought her mother was someone else. The hallucination did not seem to bother her in the least, however, for the face was familiar, and as she drifted into deeper sleep her feelings were stirred and suddenly, without rhyme or reason, she felt like crying.

***

"Lang," she asked her mother later that day, when the sun was close to setting and sleepy rabbits have begun to stir from their nests. "Is…is it possible for me tae ask Heather if I could—hae' permission tae go intae the Owsla territories?"

"Again?" the grey doe asked, lifting one head. "Dear, you know it's no stroll in the fields…"

"I din' get tae see anythin'." Hy-lien nodded her head firmly. "I want tae know, about the Owsla an' all that stuff. T'is not so forbidden, ye' know we can freely walk so long as we hae high officers' permission, an' my father's more than that."

Lang-it stared at her. "Interested, in the Owsla? You?" She wrinkled her snout. "Why all of a sudden, Hy-lien? Your father is right, maybe you _did _go in search for bucks, and found one too…"

Hy-lien was horrified. "Mother!" she gasped. 

Lang-it winked at her. "That Bent is a good fellow, large and strong. Heard he's quite smitten for you before he left for training, though of course the does all make fun of his…err…name…and all that stuff…"

"I hae no interest in Bent, nor any other buck," Hy-lien said. "I'm young. Din' be the time f'er such things."

"If not, then what?" Lang-it asked sceptically.

"Career opportunities?" Hy-lien defended. "Really, Lang, for a high-rankin' doe, ye'r too nasty."

"I'm bored, an' ye'r my only child." Their bantering stopped there, and Hy-lien crouched close to her mother, affectionately rubbing the grey doe's neck with her head. The familiar sadness drifted into the cheerful pair, one for the sorrow of lost children and children ne'er more to come, the other for the pain she cannot completely heal.

"Maybe…ye'r body just needs rest," Hy-lien whispered.

Lang-it nudged her head. "My last litter was last year. _T'is_ unlikely my body would need anymore healing. In any case, you better talk to your father yourself. You know he can't say no to you."

"He cannot say no to _thee_," Hy-lien muttered stubbornly, and trotted off, her head held high. "Well, no matter. I am sure thy husband would have a grand time scolding my ears off my head." With a mock pout, she tipped her head and hopped away.

She found her father where he always was, sitting beside the Chief with an expression of bored tolerance on his face. Using the charm she had learned so well from her mother, she had managed to get past the small scattering of guards by the entrance of the Chieftain system, and now she peered round the corner of the burrow Heather and Hemlock occupied, hoping to get her father's attention. 

"…an' so I think a slight surprise attack from some point would work well in enhancin' the fighters' senses…"

Heather blinked the sleep off his eyes, and looked at Hemlock. The stare worked so that Hemlock stopped in mid-sentence, and asked, "Aye?"

Heather scratched his cheek. "Nae offense, mae brother, but t'is almost evenin', an' _silflay_ time f'er all o' us. Take a break an' let's all eat, alright? An' maybe ye can find a doe f'er the morn'."

Hemlock chuckled. "I see. Aye, ye' may go. I'll follow in a bit. An' as f'er does, well, t'is frustratin'. All mae' sons are dead, an' all mae new litters only hae' does. Ye' think Frith would comply at some point, or at least kept Buckthorn alive f'er me."

"That Hahean o' yer's could do well f'er a buck," Heather replied, walking out with a grin etched on his face.

"Aye, well, Bthas' stock. If I din' find a buck soon, ye'r right, I _should_ make her mae heir."

"Good luck tae us then," Heather laughed. He walked out of the burrow and winked at Hy-lien. "Thought I din' see ye, lass?"

"Nae, mae father. I was merely divertin' ye'r attention." Hy-lien stood up and gave her father a kiss on the cheek. "I wanted tae ask ye if ye would let me go back tae Owsla territory."

Heather's smile faded. He sat down and thumped one hind leg against the ground.

"I want tae know about the Owsla," she insisted. "An' ye' know I saw nothin' when I first…snuck in."

"Aye, well, I'd let ye' go if ye had a guide, an' I that din' be me. I'm too busy tryin' to get Hemlock's army ready f'er war as soon as I can." Heather bit his lip. "Hmmm. I'll ask Leek tae accompany ye'. Are ye' okay with that?"

"As long as I learn…" Hy-lien replied, standing up to kiss him once more.

***

"I can see why he'd make me do errands f'er the Owsla," Leek muttered, before looking down to cast her an infuriated look. "I just din' see why I'd have tae babysit ye, too."

"Din' forget the tour, mae brother," Hy-lien replied. She felt exceedingly cheerful now. It was night-time, the dark sky illuminated with stars, and she, like most of the rabbits, had fed. She was in such high spirits that she had not the mind to remember why exactly she had wanted to get into the Owsla grounds, only knew herself to be in a nightly stroll with her big brother nearby to annoy.

"I din' even be ye'r _true_ brother," Leek hotly retorted, breaking her thoughts for a moment. "Why does Heather spoil ye'?"

"Shows how much he thinks of his _true_ children." Hy-lien laughed. She pushed her head against Leek's side. "Brother! Let us speak not of progeny. I may not be thy father's true child, but his princess, and so, is thine…"

"Din' talk to me in that…that Nur-Lath way, it hurts mae' head," Leek muttered. He leaned back against Hy-lien. "An' ye'r no princes, only a spoiled, spoiled kit-doe. A mate would do ye' good, except the rabbits here still think of ye' as a kitten, an' so, ye' shall never mate until ye' grow up…"

"Better f'er me then." Hy-lien stopped in her tracks and lifted her ears. The trees had cleared. Under the hazy moonlight, a horde of rabbits were gathered, sitting in an orderly fashion, row by row. 

Leek sat down. "Ye' want tae know 'bout d'Owsla?" He raised one paw. "Trainin'. F'er discipline." He leaned closer to Hy-lien. "If ye din' learn how tae move fast or properly 'nuff, ye' know ye'r very well not Owsla type."

Hy-lien nodded, trying to appear knowledgeable—or as much as she knew Leek would accept, anyway. Leek, dubious in his own right, snorted, and walked around the back of the horde, whilst he ordered her to stay close and whisper if she ever wanted to make noise. Nearby, the Owsla marched, and stopped, and marched again. The chorus of their voices pierced through the darkness.

They passed the feeding grounds. Hy-lien's sudden silence gave Leek a feeling of false importance, and so he stopped, pointing at the thick grass and speaking as if to a child. "Owsla eat three times a day, specially trainees. We hae' tae, tae keep in shape. T'is only f'er a limit, too, so we eat what we can. Ye' lot din' able tae handle that sort o' thing."

"Din' ye able tae stop insultin'?"

"Nay," he said, grinning.

He talked some more. Hy-lien found herself dozing at some points, dreaming even. Finally, she looked up at him and asked, "Ye'r deliverin' somethin' f'er Heather, right?"

Leek stopped in mid-sentence.

"I'll go on mae own. Go and have fun with thy errand." Flashing him a wide grin, she set off, knowing she was now the last thing on Leek's mind.

By the time the moon was directly overhead, Hy-lien had managed to trespass across several boundaries, and intrude on thrice as much Owsla quarters. Though exhausted from her efforts, she showed no traces of slowing down. Anyone watching her lollop across the darkness would think, for sure, that she was almost skipping.

She found what she was looking for…the entrance of what she knew led to a small community of tunnels and burrows. Owsla habitat, of course—she had learned that much during her short excursion. She knew, too, upon entering the system, that each burrow was numbered in a certain way, and if you knew someone's code, you could easily find that rabbit's burrow.

She spent the rest of the night trying, unsuccessfully, to locate the burrow she sought, so that when dawn came, it found her slumped in an empty corner she'd found, chewing distastefully on her paw. Rabbits passing by took no notice, thinking her as no less than a visitor. After all, she didn't look scared—only pissed.

She had been humming irritably to herself when the shadow of a rabbit passed over her. She quickly drew back in shock, whiskers and nose quivering as fast as her heart beat. It took a few seconds before she had the courage to step forward and face the direction the rabbit had taken.

It was Hemlock, stepping away in an almost joyous manner. Hy-lien could not believe her eyes. She knew Hemlock to be an irate rabbit, always ready to snap up anything that stood in his path…yet there he was, nodding cheerfully to a bumbling officer, and was he _actually singing_? She rubbed her eyes with her paws, twice, just to make sure.

"Well, Frith in a dungheap, that's _something_ ye' din' see everyday." She must have said it out loud, for now a grubby rabbit was sitting beside her, nodding his agreement.

"Very obscure. I wish I could record it."

"Aye, well…"

"So, art thou on a visit, or art thou for me?" the buck asked.

Hy-lien turned around with a huff, and disappeared around a corner, leaving the disheartened buck behind. She had decided to follow Hemlock's trail. "Whatever he's up tae," she whispered to herself. "I'll find out."

She was no tracker, of course, but Hemlock was a big rabbit, and left footprints the size of her ears against the loamy soil. After a bit of tinkering, she managed to find the exact burrow where he had come from, and without thought or reason, barged in, and said aloud, to whatever rabbit there may be standing there, "Hello. I'm here."

"So you are," came the answer.

She sat down and saw the same doe she had seen the day before. "I…" she stammered. "Don't know what I'm doing here."

"I do," the doe said, and shifted aside to give her some space. She nodded, and lay beside her.

"Who are ye'?" 

"I am Useth. Captain of Patrols, First Division, though currently on leave. And you are…?" The doe leaned back, seeming as if the question she asked had an answer she knew, though she was far too sensible to admit it.

"Hy-lien, daughter of Heather."

"Ah," she said. "Heather."

There was a slight fidget. "Ummm…why are ye' on leave?"

"My dear, I'm pregnant."

"Oh." She looked around, then at the doe's belly. It looked slightly rounded, indeed, though one had to look hard to notice. "Am I the first tae know?"

"The second."

"So Hemlock…he came here tae' tell ye' ye hae' tae leave f'er a bit?"

Suddenly, the doe laughed, placing a paw tenderly on the younger doe's leg. "Well, you do sure ask a lot of questions, don't you? Quite, my dear, quite. He came here to tell me I'm to leave my duties to Captain Anemone for a bit, though, as you can see, I really don't want to."

"But ye'r pregnant," Hy-lien argued, and she now faced this strange doe as if she had known her all her life, and cared for her as deeply as she did her own mother. "Surely, ye'r mate would not want that."

"As I said, he came here to tell me to leave my duties to Anemone." And then, she sighed, placing her head on her paws, and that sad, terrible look Hy-lien saw on her face before came back. 

"Be happy," Hy-lien said, and though never a chummy doe, she curled beside Useth and tenderly kissed the other's face. "Ye'r bringing a life tae this world."

"Ah, but what a cruel, cruel world it is," she whispered, bringing Hylien closer, remembering, though she did not know why, those days long past, when Seed was at his happiest, and in a way, so was she. And so, she whispered past lullabies, and trembling with a recognition that carried no sense, held her, not as Heather's daughter but as Seed's child, while inside her Hemlock's own gurgled in its wake.


	46. 

** 46**

Each day, the Owsla trembled under the rain, or scorched beneath the sun, whilst they waited for that fateful moment when they knew all their sufferings would finally reap its rewards. And so, when it happened, when Hemlock stood at Nur-Lath's highest peak and cried aloud, "T'is time!", there was a loud explosion of cheers, as each soldier, each officer, and each Captain began what they had so long prepared for. The enthusiasm was at its highest. War, it said. War is upon us. Let us cheer, and drive ourselves into victory!

"Take thy claws, take thy teeth, take thy enemies swift as sleet!"

"Och, och," was all Hy-lien said to the matter, as she and Hahean sat nearby, watching the soldiers rally up. 

"They look like ants, so they do," Hahean replied, with a grim smile. "_I_ wonder how ants mate…"

"Hahean," Hy-lien said, shaking her head.

"Ye' know I'm achin' f'er one o' this Owsla bucks. Honey! Yoo hoo!" She hooted at the nearest buck, and stood up, waving both paws high in the air. "Come back f'er dear Hahean, now, won't ye?"

Friends of the doomed soldier elbowed him. "Haha! Hahean's got her eye on ye'! Better ye' stay out in the battles forever, mate!"

"Och!" Hahean cried, pouting. "Ye' boyos sure know how tae ruin a girl's fun. Ho hum. Come back, come back, ye' hear?" And she waved again, whilst her bucks waved back, and joked about her for the rest of the march off Nur-Lath.

Higher up, near the peak that Hahean and her kin so often take for granted, Hemlock and Heather stood, looking at each other with that certain reverence that only brothers as close as they were could have.

"Ye' an' Centaury will take care o' Nur-Lath while I'm away, din' ye?" Hemlock was saying.

"Aye," Heather nodded.

"An' that doe, an' what litter she may kindle."

Heather stopped for a moment. There was an affectionate glint in Hemlock's eyes, one which Heather had not seen whenever Hemlock would talk of any of his does, including Bthas. "What is it about this doe ye' find so…that ye'd want ye'r heir tae be from her?"

Hemlock, who did not like to talk about feelings that ran deeper than his blood, ignored the question. "Take care o' her. T'is all I ask. Remember tae send me word once the litter is born." He straightened up. "I'll see ye' then, mae brother."

"_Rusati_, _Frithaes_."

***

Since her litter's premature death, Lang-it had been withdrawn to her burrow, leaving it only briefly to feed on the grass, or take a walk with Heather out in the fields. Even when Hy-lien came to her life, she seemed to have a hard time shaking herself off the routine she had so firmly established, and so had spent her days secluded from the rest of the warren. Her adopted daughter and mate composed her whole world. Moonwort, she has not seen since Hemlock's arrival, the Chief having made him run half a dozen errands for the Owsla each day.

But as Hy-lien grew up, and began to spend her time away from home and sleep elsewhere in random intervals, Lang-it finally got bored and began to explore the system during Heather's work hours. She found it terribly fascinating. Hemlock had redesigned Nur-Lath to fit his own ideals, and there was much to be said for a warren whose burrows and tunnels actually made _sense_, in contrast to the mazelike quality most warrens were apt to acquire. 

When she first started poking her head into the strange burrows, quite a few complained, mostly the older, less content does who find it appalling that bucks these days prefer "wild youth to steady experience." She almost got into a fight once, when, passing by a rather unkempt tunnel, she accidentally trod over a fat doe half-asleep on the floor.

"Why thoust small bugger!" the fat doe had cried. "What dost thou thinkest, trotting in with thy prissy little head in my property? _My_ property?"

"Sorry, miss. It's a tunnel anyway, and…"

"Thou darest talk!" the fat doe had thundered, and flung her across the other side of the passage with one quick flick of her paw. "Thy ugly grey coat belongest not to my abode! Out, I say, out! Tell thy mate thy attitude is worse than thy chickweed blossoming ass!"

"She said _what_?" was all Heather had replied to the incident, once Lang-it regretfully told him. He spent the entire day laughing, promoting a serious discussion about his sanity among his senior officers.

Nevertheless, rabbits soon realized _who_ she really was, and the grey doe once more turned into a rather popular figure, managing to get herself accepted even in the most unlikely of circles. One time, Heather found her in a sage meditation with several grizzled bobstone masters. She willingly admitted she had been trying to learn the game from them, and was not close to succeeding. "I'm not a dunce, honest," she told him later on. "I just don't see the point. Who cares if it's a rough or a smooth stone?"

Thus, it was not a big of a surprise that the topic of the war was brought to her attention. She had been hanging about a doe and their week-old kittens when the doe's mate, an Owsla officer, happened to pass by. "Hi, dear," the doe said with a smile. "How goes thy day?"

"Quite busy. Hi, Lang-it." The buck sat down by the entrance and helped himself to several roots that lay about it. "Hemlock's gotten by the lake, though so far there hasn't been reports of any enemies," he continued, his mouth full. "They're pretty inactive. They should go down quickly, thou shouldst realize. They don't seem too strong."

"Hemlock is quite set on conquering this warren," his doe commented.

"I've been hearing about this war for a while," Lang-it interjected. "And believe me, even though I should know by now, I just don't quite get what Hemlock's fighting for, and _who_, even."

"Ah, well, that is my expertise," the buck grinned. At his mate's huffed gaze, he muttered, "Or so." He rubbed his muzzle. "In any case, Hemlock's simply trying to conquer this other warren's land. He admits it's for a personal reason, and the Nizorners are more into it than us of Nur-Lath stock, but it looks a pretty easy catch, and I say, if we have a wider range, we have better lives. Already, ours have improved since Hemlock has come. Bigger burrows, better food, safer haven for our children."

"But isn't this warren…pretty much the same…?"

"This warren, Nur-Lath, if thou has not noticed yet, has poor resources. Our food is not of best quality. I have tasted better on my journeys, though without the safety of nearby burrows. The other warren, from reports, don't have this stringy, mesh stuff we eat."

"So what's this warren's name?" Lang-it dragged a root from beside the buck and started to chew on it with distaste. It _was_ stringy stuff.

"Léao-nang, I believe. Its Chief had been someone of a certain Nightshade-rah, but we've heard that he stepped down in favour of this…Seed. In fact, they captured him just the other moon or so…"

Lang-it choked.

"Art thou okay?" the doe asked, stepping forward.

Lang-it nodded. She leaned forward and coughed the piece of root out of her mouth. "S-seed…?" she asked, her voice raspy. When the two did not reply, seeking to assist her instead, she shook them off and asked once more. "Seed?"

"Yes, Seed, but I don't see how…"

"I have to go." With a nod, she set off across the system, fast as her feet would fly. She reached the very edge of the warren, where an Owsla meeting was being held. Here, she bounded down, and faced Heather, who had just been starting something akin to a speech. "Seed?" she asked with contempt. "Heather, why didn't you…"

"Er, excuse me," Heather mumbled to the group. He hopped out of the burrow with Lang-it behind him, and when they were well out of earshot, turned to her sharply. "D'ye realize I'm tryin' tae work here?"

"Do you realize you haven't told me the _truth?" _she retorted hotly.

"What be this truth?" Heather asked, not feeling particularly patient either.

"Seed. The warren you're at war with is Seed!"

"Seed…? Aye, t'is the name o' the Chief of Léao-nang, but…"

"Is this _Seed_ always was a resident of Léao-nang, then?" She stamped her foot. "Tell me!"

"Nae, we heard 'is warren was _hlessi_ an' he came only recently."

"See?" she cried aloud. "You didn't tell me! You didn't tell me anything!"

Heather's whiskers seemed to curl as he snorted back his own anger. "Will ye' pipe down? The entire warren's hearin' ye…"

"You know my brother is Seed! Why—why didn't you tell me?" She gazed at him, her heart tearing by the seams as each second passed. She thought…Frith...she had made him her world, the basis of what she lived on…and now…

"Where is he?" she asked.

He lifted his brows.

"They say he was captured. Where is he…?"

"I din'…Hemlock said he was, but t'was that 'e was also set free. Din' shout at me, lass, he dinnae be in this warren anymore…"

"That's not the point! How could you hide this from me…?" she asked, her voice softening to a whisper. "How could you…Heather…I trusted you…and you could _ lie_ to me…?"

"I din'…" he began.

"I asked you before. Remember? I asked who you were fighting. You said you didn't know the name of the Chief. That--that you'd tell me. Once you found out."

"I din'…"

"And you had him _here_ and never said a thing…?"

She did not know him anymore. Strange, how a bond formed so deeply could be quickly shattered by a moment of deceit. That morning, she had been content, lying beside him and thinking she would never be alone again. Yet now, she was empty. She felt like crying, but could not. It was hard to swallow pain that overflows, but she had to.

"A lower officer knew. Don't tell me you, Head Captain of Hemlock's Army, wouldn't…?"

"I…"

"Tell me you had a reason," she pleaded. "Tell me you had a reason for hiding the knowledge of my brother from me…"

"Ye' said. There nae be any from there. Nae one."

She found a lump lodged in her throat, remembering. Seed was no longer the brother she knew. And he was her last family. "Nae…" she said to him, and the mimicry of his accent was enough to show him the feeling of betrayal he had brought. "Nae one. But he's mae brother."

"Lass, I…"

"My brother!" she cried. "My only family. I hate him, Heather, I hate him for changing, but Frith and Inlé, if the buck I thought I loved would so much raise a paw against him…" She gasped for breath and stepped back, staring at him, asking him speechlessly to know of the sorrow she was feeling.

He stepped forward to hold her. But she recoiled at his touch, backing away as if from a predator. "Please forget me," she said. Then, slowly, daring him to follow her, she walked away.

He didn't. Instead, he sat still, dumbfounded. He could not tell her he had intentionally failed to put two and two together. Like her, he did not want to have to choose between mate and blood. He had ignored the name of the rabbit they fought, forcing himself to believe that it was not the Seed she knew. Otherwise, he would not have gone as far on Hemlock's mission as he had. And so, he sat there for long hours, refusing to believe she had just turned her back to him, that she had left him, and that he had been so stupid as to cause _that_…

Centaury arrived next to him. "Heather," he said.

He looked to the older rabbit.

"Ye' are o' mae blood," the rabbit said. "Mae father an' mae mother were ye'rs, though I be older than ye'. Ye' know that. Ye' know, too, that I love ye'."

"Centaury…"

"I be sorry, mae brother. She hae' been branded as traitor. She is our enemy's blood, will give 'em information we din' want them tae know. Already, we hae trouble wi' Hemlock's letting that Seed go…"

He did not blink, nor twitch a muscle. To do so would be to betray her completely.

"She hae left the warren, but nae f'er long. Ye' know the warren is heavily guarded. An' any o' our rabbits that be seein' her hae been given leave tae kill." Centaury paused for a moment, then placed a paw on Heather's bronzed shoulder. "Forgive me."

Yet what was trust, but a random choosing? For when your own heart could turn against you so, the line between foe and friend become nothing but of one's own imagination.

***

She could not have escaped if she had left sooner, or later, or moved a wrong direction. She would have been caught, questioned for being in such a hurry, and before she could be released, orders concerning her would have already arrived. Then there would be no Lang-it, and this story would not be complete.

But Frith, _and was it truly Frith_, He shone that day, bright and majestic like the day the world was first conceived. And so Useth, though on leave and heavily pregnant, happened to walk past the path Lang-it would later use, and noticed the guards sitting with a rather uneasy look in their faces while scratching themselves whenever they felt fancy. It didn't look right.

"Fleas, ma'am," one guard said, noticing her displeased look, and recognizing her not only as a higher Captain, but as his Chief's doe. "We got 'em fleas."

"Nasty buggers," the other commented.

"Have you gotten them checked?" she asked.

Both guards exchanged looks, then shrugged. "No biggie," the first one said. "They're fleas."

"Fleas—gonna roll in dirt later, get rid o' 'em good. Nice an' easy. Drop off like fruit." said the second. Then they nodded their heads in unison.

"So to get rid of fleas, you get dirtier," she said.

The two sentries nodded again, grinning. "Yes ma'am," they said. "Very e-efficient."

A vein in her head popped. "In case you didn't realize, I was being sarcastic. Why don't you get it checked by the medic?"

One of the rabbits gave a squeal. "Nae Miss Twinkle!" he shouted. "She hae the worst cures a rabbit could'a thought o'! She made me this awful paste that be smellin' like cattle dung for mae' feet."

"She was trying to help you," Useth muttered. "Don't be such a baby…"

"She made _me_ wear a dandelion on mae' head," the other guard commented.

Useth blinked. "What for?"

The guard blinked back, turned red, and looked around. His companion lifted one brow.

"W-ell…" the guard said.

Useth tapped a paw, waiting.

"…t'is suppose tae help me…I hae' this problem, see, with err—talkin' tae does…" he said slowly, trying hard not to look her in the eye.

"You're talking to me fine…" she muttered.

"…particular does," the guard said. "…the dandelion was supposed tae…" He mumbled the rest of the sentence.

"Well…?" Useth asked. 

"…attract does…" he said, whispering.

His companion dropped to the ground and began to giggle.

Biting her lip to stop herself from laughing, Useth kicked both guards in the shins. "Dandelion or no, you two have fleas, and you better see her to find a cure. I don't care if it's something as silly as walking on your front paws in moonlight—I don't like to see guards…heh…erm…just get your fleas treated…"

"Now?" they asked. 

"Yes."

"But we're leavin' soon anyhow an' our replacements will come, so we'll just wait…"

"If it's soon, I'll just stand for you. Now go. I hate fleas. Don't want any pests around…"

With her mind made up, there was nothing the guards could say or do to make her change it. Sighing, they took their leave, muttering something about pregnant does and their willpower.

So Useth sat guard for them, her mind void of nothing else but fleas, which was a normal occurrence for her at this rate. She was always thinking of nothing, these days. It was the only way she could stop herself from breaking down—it was the only way she could protect Seed now…

She lifted her head as she spotted a figure speeding towards her direction. She stood up, bracing her feet, preparing to call the rabbit off. The words were at the tip of her tongue when the rabbit's face became visible to her. A wave of disbelief hit her.

"L-Lang…" she began.

"Let me pass!" the doe cried. There was no recognition in her voice—it was what she would have said to any other guard. "Let me pass, I have nothing against you!"

The voice was softer, older, than she remembered. The young doe she knew had grown a great deal, become an adult. The only thing that stood out was the accent unique to the Nur-Lath and Nizorn lisp. 

"Lang-it," she said, as the doe passed her by. "Go to Seed."

The grey rabbit turned to her. "Who are you?" she asked, somehow realizing, too, that the accent was the same as hers.

"It doesn't matter. Go to him. He needs you." 

She seemed to want to ask again, but the danger she was in forbid her to do so. "I—I will," she said instead, and began to run faster.

Useth looked away and straightened her back, preparing to deny Lang-it from her pursuers which she knew, in no time, would be around to question everyone.


	47. 

** 47**

"How did she know where to go?" the kittens, to whom this story was later told to, would ask in puzzlement.

"She followed her heart, my dears," the storyteller would simply say. "She followed her heart."

But she didn't, because Lang-it ran blindly, not _to_ her heart but _away_ from it, for though Seed was her brother in everything but blood, Heather was the embodiment of her every being. Oh, but only Frith knew the pain that tore through her, the pain brought by her every step away from him! The knowledge of both his dishonesty and her love for him was too much to bear.

She headed east, knowing from others the direction where the enemy warren was. Owsla from Nur-Lath she met, but no one seemed to have received Centaury's declaration yet, nor did they recognize her as Heather's doe. She managed to declare herself as one of the rabbits brought by the Owsla to serve them, and so managed to sneak past without arousing suspicion.

Hemlock's army had camped right across the lake. This, to Lang-it, seemed strange, for the warren was further away, and if Hemlock wished to conquer it, wouldn't he drive forward instead of stay put in one place? She found the answer right at the moment that she was heading south to find the stream where she knew she could cross to get further east. Whilst she slept underneath a bush, she heard, and smelled, rabbits clashing tooth and claw against each other.

Fear instantly gripped her. The grounds where she had rested had become a battlefield! Horrified, she bolted out of her shelter, and saw one of the many battles that would come between Nizorn and Léao-nang. Hemlock's enemies had sighted them earlier on, something which Hemlock had been aware of and unable to prevent. There was no way to move forward without fighting, and defeating, first.

Lang-it was frozen in her spot only for a moment. A dead buck slammed against her, and she figured that sooner or later someone would mistake her for being on the enemy's side and attack her. She had always assumed herself a good fighter amongst her peers, but that was mainly because her peers were all spoiled little bucks and does. Against Owsla, _any_ Owsla, she was bound to get killed.

She quickly got on her feet and sped away, but it wasn't long before she heard someone cry out in pursuit of her. Now, her situation had turned deadly. The rabbit would pounce, and slash her throat, and she would be dead before all her problems were resolved. In her fervor, her mind raced for any, _any_ idea that would save her skin…

She went down, squealing. The rabbit, having seen her slow down, leaped to attack. While the rabbit was in mid-air, she cried out, "May mae husband tear ye'r eyes off ye' once he's won this war!"

The rabbit pinned her down, but the claws did not dig into her. Panting, the Owsla said, "Repeat yourself."

She pretended to struggle underneath the buck's weight. "Before Hemlock's done with ye', ye'll be screamin' f'er Inlé t'er take y'er bones awa'…"

"Doe! Ye say ye'r Hemlock's mate?"

She cursed.

"Feisty young thing. Ye hush, or I'll strike ye deader than ye'r mate can make me…"

She cursed again, and the buck hit her on the head, knocking her cold.

***

Just as Lang-it expected, when she woke up she wasn't quite dead, though indeed she was in a clammy, cramped burrow. Two guards blocked the entrance. She stared at them intently, then said aloud, "I'm hungry. Ye din' feed ye'r prisoners? Fetch me food, one o' ye'!"

"Little bitch," one of the guards said. He snorted. "We'll be damned if we leave ye here unattended. Starve an' maybe that'll cure ye'r tongue."

She spat, and then sat down. She was exhausted, and true to her words, was indeed hungry. She crouched down and glared hot daggers at the guards.

"Let me through," a voice echoed from outside. The guards gave a brief nod and then walked away. Lang-it lifted her ears. A good-sized buck was standing in their place. He looked old, very old. A sort of sadness seemed to reflect from his languid eyes.

"You are our enemy's mate?" he asked, loudly and yet softly. Lang-it felt drawn to him. His voice, though one she had never heard before, sounded of home. Suddenly she was back in Primrose-rah, in burrows full of rabbits she loved, her mother, her brothers, the warmth, and her father loved her again.

She snapped back into reality and eyed the buck once more. No, she was certain she had never been acquainted with him. "Aye," she said, knowing the buck expected an answer. "An' ye' be…?"

"If you must know, I am Nightshade. I have come to question you. Answer, and we might set you free, to rejoin your mate and family." He dropped his head in a courteous manner.

"Ye' are the warren's Chief…?"

"Not entirely. Now, what are your mate's intentions on declaring war upon our humble warren…?"

"I talk tae no one except this warren's Chief."

"I am Chief enough for you, lass," Nightshade said, raising his voice higher. "Now, answer me. Why fight us?"

She repeated her declaration. "I will take tae no one except this warren's Chief."

Nightshade sighed, and glanced all over her as if in wonderment. "I would have you flogged, if only…" He sighed, losing his words. He looked at her again and she saw his jaw tighten. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to shout—I am only at a loss on what your warren is doing to mine. I will call the Chief…" He turned away.

She was confused. He was far too polite to a prisoner that had acted all too haughtily towards them. "You…" she called out loud.

He turned his head. "Yes?"

She realized her break in accent, and sought to restore it. "Y…ye'…why treat me so? I hae been none but trouble tae ye'…"

"You just…remind me. Of someone I used to know." His voice weakened, and he looked like as if he would fall down and sob any moment. "I'm sorry. There are many grey does in the world. I'm sure my eyes are merely tricking me." With a last nod, he left. The guards resumed their position, and she was left to contemplate his words.

Seed arrived many hours later, a busy, and quite annoyed, rabbit. He did not want to have to be the one to question a prisoner that the whole warren described as "edgy as a flying _yona_." He hated having to deal with unruly rabbits—and there was a lot of work he had to do. For instance, their first assault against Hemlock's crew had ended in a stalemate—both sides retreated, bringing prisoners with them, and neither had been able to advance very far into the other's cradle. What made it bad was that the Nizorners were outnumbered, four to one. That meant, of course, that they were stronger than any of Seed's rabbits could have ever imagined.

He went inside the burrow noisily. The doe was asleep, and he gruffly raised his voice to wake her up.

She opened her eyes. "What is…?" she asked, lifting her head.

"I'm here to question you, like you requested," he said. "Hemlock's mate…"

"Seed."

"Let me fi…"

"Brother."

The word caught him off-guard. He stared at her, in shock, as she approached him. Nearer, he could see her clearly. Closer still, and there was no doubt left in him as to who she was. But how she could be…?

"It's me," she said, her voice trembling.

"I know," he replied. His own trembled too.

The guards moved slightly from where they sat, and he turned to them and dismissed them, leaving him alone with her.

"It's been so long…too long…" she muttered, thrusting her head against his chest. 

"Don't leave me again," he said, before drawing her closer to him and clutching her tight as if he daren't let her go. "Oh Frith, don't ever leave me again. You're all I have…they left me…everyone left me…" He shivered, and cried, and so did she, but it was all for joy. They needed it. Their world was now slowly being torn by war, and soon thereafter, there would be no space for anything but grief and hate.

***

"Your sister she is, then?" Nightshade asked, when he found out along with the rest of the warren of Lang-it's sudden arrival. It was a few hours before dawn and many of the rabbits were napping for a short while, after the night's activities and what would be in the morning to come. Seed, to his own, was still awake, and had been in a sort of quiet conference with the older Chief in his burrow. Lang-it lay in a corner some distance away, undisturbed by their chatter.

"Raised as such," Seed admitted ruefully. "She is my father's youngest sister. My—my mother died…my grandparents raised me." He felt a slight tingle at his own words, remembered the blur that had begun the scarring of his young life. As if by instinct, he lifted one paw and brushed the scars on his face.

"H-how…fared your grandparents?" Nightshade asked. It was something he'd never dared question before. He had accepted Seed, and who he and his warren was, with a certain resignation, but had stayed away from delving into the topic any further than Quillwort's stories—which involved nothing but Timothy's reign, and the events that happened during their journey from Primrose-rah to there. It was a part of his life he thought he'd locked away forever. But…there were certain things…that he could not bear not knowing about. During all the time, since he had gotten to know Seed and the rest of his warren better, he felt estranged. This Quillwort, who was younger than he and was barely related to them, would know more about Ghost than the one who bore his father's true name. It hurt him, made him guilty, as if Frith and all of life hadn't made him guilty enough before.

"They…" Seed muttered, closing his eyes and forcing himself into a flashback. That kitten, tottering after Lang-it and stumbling upon his grandparents' bodies. He remembered his words when he saw them. "I need you. How are we supposed to live now? Chief…" _Chief_… "They died happily," he said, knowing his own sorrow had masked this knowledge of their passing. "They were old—nothing more. Side-by-side, too."

"Ah," came Nightshade's reply. And he thought of his father, with his stern gaze, and the masked, belligerent love he had offered, and did not know that Seed thought of him too, though in the softer, older form that he was, gentle to his accursed weakling of a grandson because he knew the rest of the world wouldn't be. And there was silence in that burrow, save for Lang-it's deep snoring.

When nearly an hour had passed without anything being said between them, Quillwort appeared, panting and shaking more from what seemed to be distress than exertion. Seed lifted his ears in alarm. 

"The enemy…" Quillwort said, refusing to wait any further for what either Seed or Nightshade had to say. "The sneaking bastards attacked one of our camps during fu-Inlé. They killed no one—but everyone in that camp had been taken prisoner. They used their entire force to quell that small little camp…no one expected this…"

"This isn't the news," Nightshade said quietly.

"No, it's not," Quillwort said, cocking his head at the older rabbit. "Frith bless us if it were. They sent the whole Frithdamn lot of them straight into Hristhain, to be massacred!"

Seed jumped up in shock. "Everyone killed?"

"_Everyone_." Quillwort was seething as he spoke. "Hristhain is a peaceful warren. They refused to be involved in this war, when we asked for their alliance a few weeks ago. _Hraka!_ If they agreed we _both_ won't be in this stinking mess—we could have had a safer camp set up in their territory, one which wasn't as open to surprise attacks as that other one was…"

"Enough with the blames, Quillwort, and tell us more of what happened," Nightshade said.

Quillwort snorted. "Hristhain thought they were of the enemy—Nizorn made sure of _that_. I heard they were threatened, or some other, though someone said a few Nizorn officers simply led them unsuspectingly into Hristhain. Either way, while Hristhain was busy fending off these _attackers_, Nizorn entered from the back, which was mostly undefended. Fool be these Hristhainers! Now Nizorn is in command of their petty warren—their Chief is being held captive—I heard the weakling has _pledged_ to Hemlock himself. And of course, our rabbits' bodies lie open in the grass."

He ended with a sigh, slumping back against the tunnel walls. By now, his voice had awakened Lang-it, who listened intently where she sat.

Seed turned to Nightshade. "This is bad," he said.

Quillwort spoke up again. "You think?"

Seed felt his jaw tighten. "There's more?"

"Kes Maythil has also been taken."

"Oh Frith," Nightshade groaned. He shook his head, then turned to Seed. "Have you learned enough of Léao-nang's surroundings to feel what I am feeling…?"

Confused, the younger rabbit shook his head.

"Kes Maythil lies southeast where we are. Hristhain is southwest. They are both small warrens, measly resources compared to ours, but…"

"Stronger than any camps we can dare make," Quillwort finished for him. "Hemlock is trying to surround us."

"No," Lang-it suddenly spoke up.

Everyone turned to her. 

"I don't know Hemlock," she admitted. "I've seen him several times, but I don't know him personally. I never even knew anything about his plans, besides the fact that he wants to crush Léao-nang personally." 

Seed raised his eyebrows, as if he was about to ask her what her point was. She caught this in time. "_Wait. _I've heard rumours, though. I didn't listen to them—too much Owsla talk. I forgot, even, until I heard what Quillwort said. There were rumours that since Hemlock took over Nur-Lath, he had discovered how addictive power is. That he is planning to make every warren he could reach kneel to his name. Conquering this warren is proof--he doesn't want _just_ a warren, he wants an empire."

A feeling of dread began to creep along Seed's spine. "So if we don't stop him…" his words ended in thoughts that were far too dreadful to say out loud.

"How can we?" Quillwort said. "Already, we have lost many of our fighters, and our enemy gained more."

Nightshade looked up. "Do we still stand and fight? Or do we run like cowards…?"

"I don't know," Seed said truthfully, crouching down. "I don't know…"

***

"Do you know why Hemlock let me go?" Seed asked, when Nightshade and Quillwort had left the burrow and he was left alone with Lang-it.

Lang-it lifted her eyes. "I don't know. I didn't even know you were captured until you were gone."

"I _was_ captured," he said, narrowing his eyes. "It's strange. Hemlock is so wrought for revenge, but when he has me in his clutches—he lets me go…"

"How did you get captured anyway?" she asked.

He crouched down. "I—I was leading a group of rabbits to track down the enemy's location. Get a good idea where they're hiding, see. That's how we know they're in Nur-Lath. We got ambushed…two of us got captured, brought back to Hemlock."

"And then—he just let you go," Lang-it said. She had doubted Heather's words, thinking there was so much more to it, but…

"Yes." Seed nodded. "He just let me go."

"H-how…why…?"

"Don't ask me that. I don't know either. I was in containment for one day, and then some officer drags me and the other rabbit out and thrown back where they caught us. I never even saw a glimpse of Hemlock."

"Strange," Lang-it said. She crouched down, thinking deeply. "What's on their minds? Hemlock and…everyone…"

"All that's on mine is to save us," Seed said, getting up. He nodded and began to walk away. 

Pride surged into her heart as she watched him go. He had grown so much, was no longer the bumbling young fool he had been. 

_I will kill Hemlock_, he thought, unbeknownst to her. _He will die slowly and painfully, and to get to him I will use any means necessary… _

***

By noon the next day, a messenger from Nizorn arrived. The entire warren buzzed with excitement, and many of the leaders felt a twinge of hope at this sudden event. Surely, he was here to bring an ultimatum—to ask them to give up, and Hemlock would spare their lives. How bad would it be, to live under someone else's rule…? Seed and Nightshade would still be Chiefs—they would only be under Hemlock, like all the Chieftains in the other warrens. Already, they knew they were badly outnumbered overnight. 

Seed, Nightshade, Quillwort, and every single high-ranking rabbit in the warren appeared to greet the messenger's arrival. Their decisions had already been discussed, and though some, like Quillwort, were heavily against offering their allegiance to their own enemy, the majority seemed to be taken to the idea. It was all a matter of negotiations.

So it was entirely to everyone's disbelief when the messenger simply reared his head, as if in amusement of the glimmer in their eyes, and said, "Hemlock wants you to know that he will personally see to the death of every rabbit in this warren, leaders, Owsla, bucks, does, and kittens alike, and Frith, if Frith be with you, will be left to judge your souls."

They killed him on the spot.

By evening, Seed launched an attack on Hristhain, where he knew Hemlock currently resided.


	48. 

** 48**

"Fools," Hemlock said, when he was rudely awakened during the morning by a messenger to tell of Léao-nang's assault on the warren. "What be they hopin' tae achieve? We are strong, they din' be able tae place a dent on us…"

He hopped out into the surface and cuffed the nearest rabbit to him. "Where be the battle?" he said, looking around and noticing that only his rabbits, save a few dead bodies of the enemy's, were about. "Did ye' kill them all so soon?"

The Hristhain buck shook his head fiercely. "Nay, sir, nay, t'was that they only 'tacked us quick n' easy n' then they took off'n like bees on a flow'r."

Hemlock's eyes widened with confusion. "Now that's strange. What be these Primrose rabbits drinkin', I wager…"

"Léao-nang, y'mean, sir…?"

"T'is one an' the same," he said, shuffling off to where the most dead bodies seem to be scattered. He looked around and saw only one or two that seemed to be his. The rest were the enemy's, and all badly torn.

One of his Captains approached him carefully. "Sir, as ye' know, t'was an attack…"

"Aye. An' a crazy one at that," he said, curtly. Hemlock yawned. The entire affair seemed to be too easy nowadays, and he felt quite bored with the events. Daft Primrose-rah rabbits. Couldn't wait to have him go and slaughter them, so they come here and beg dear old Hemlock to break their necks, please don't bother movin' your feet y'er Highness, we'll appease ye'. He snorted, then laughed.

He caught the Captain's eye, and shrugged. "Go on, then," he said. "Ye' hae more tae say."

"Some escaped," the buck said. 

"Aye, so I figured."

"A lot escaped, rather," the buck corrected himself, scratching the side of his neck idly.

"So…?"

"Took our rabbits prisoners."

Hemlock lifted his brows.

"Took Centaury, an' mebbe half o' his regiment. Din' matter who. Jes' that they took him, an' screamin' and kickin' they took 'im."

Hemlock's eyesight blackened for one short moment, and then he was wide and awake, yelling for rabbits to come to his aide, and in this rush of blind rage, cared little as to whether it was true Owsla that followed him or not. He did not count on Centaury being captured. Centaury had just arrived from Nur-Lath that evening, and they barely had time to exchange anymore than greetings with each other. Surely the enemy did not know that the older buck was his brother? They barely knew what _he_ looked like themselves. The thought of what he himself would have done, had he caught any of his enemy's more important rabbits, sent his blood boiling.

He ran, and the group of rabbits he'd called tried to follow to the best of their abilities. They followed the rabbit tracks as far as the location of the Léao-nang camp they had captured, and there, stopped, unwilling to go further. Why would they?

They had found the rabbits Léao-nang had captured as prisoners. Each of them had gaping necks, so cut deeply that their heads threatened to fall off at any moment. Wounds of various proportions marked the rest of their bodies, looking to be the work of anything _but_ a rabbit. Also, each body was hanging from a beech tree that marked the camp, tied to the branches by their very arms. The look on their faces showed that they were still alive while the grotesque work was being done to them. In fact, if anyone dared approach the spectacle, they would have found the bodies to be quite warm still, and one or two whose necks weren't quite torn that were just teetering over the edge of death.

Centaury, of course, was the centerpiece. He was hung where Hemlock could see him properly. His chest and belly were open, the guts hanging down. The look on his blank face showed nothing else but pure, savage suffering.

Hemlock approached it carefully, shivering, hating, and shivering. "Cut him down," he ordered. When no one moved, he began to shout. "Can't ye' bloody rabbits do anythin' right? I'll do it maeself then!" He lunged at Centaury's body and pulled it to the ground, breaking the rabbit's arms in the process. But he didn't care. Lovingly, he held the battered rabbit's head in both paws, and began to stroke it in an almost frenzied man

"_Rusati, rusati_," he muttered. "They din' be able tae hurt ye' anymore. Brother, ye' din' belong here. Ye' din' hae tae fight."

_ No more death_, his father had promised him. No more death, when he was leader of Primrose-rah, of Léao-nang, of all, when he had killed Seed and everyone…and he could quell Timothy, could proclaim he was greater, greatness, end of suffering, ha, ha, ha, ha…

The madness had engulfed Hemlock.

Just the same way as it engulfed Seed.

And now the two rabbits wanted naught but to break each other and everyone else around them, even where there was no single reason for fighting but the act of fighting itself.

***

At the same time when earlier, Seed had coldly looked into Centaury's pleading eyes and gutted him alive, Useth's labour began. When Centaury screamed for Frith and Inlé to kill him where he hung, so did Useth scream for both their blessings for the new life her body brought forth. And when at last, when the long minutes passed and Centaury's life ended, so did a new one come in the form of Useth's child, a son, squealing his way into the world. So in Hemlock's sorrow came his greatest joy, though he did not know it then.

He would not know until three days after, when a messenger tumbled into his burrow and exclaimed, "Captain Useth, sir, hae born a son." The words hit him hard, and then, with what seemed to be a sudden rush of relief, he called on someone to watch Hristhain for him and left for Nur-Lath on his own.

He arrived battered and bloody, but that did not seem to matter. He rushed straight to Useth's burrow, where she lay nursing the only kitten she bore.

"A son?" he asked, when she looked up knowingly at him.

She nodded, feeling no joy at his arrival, although there was a tinge of pride in her form. Besides that, she had no wish to deny her child of his father, and when he took another step inside, she pushed it towards where he could see better.

He gave a small gasp. "His colour…"

"Dark, I believe, runs in the family," she said. She was thinking of Timothy, although Hemlock and Heather themselves were quite dark. "Don't you think it's going to cause trouble for him?"

"Nae, nae," Hemlock said, touching the babe with his nose. The kitten grunted, but did nothing more than that. "He's mae son. _Mae_ son. An' mae heir. Every rabbit who sees him will be rememberin' him—an' they will bow tae him. F'er him, I hae carved an empire."

"_For_ him?" Useth asked. There was an increased boldness in her tone. She could afford it—she could see how much the kitten pleased him.

"Buckthorn was a flaw," he spat. "He hae the attitude, but none o' the spark. An' this bairn—aye, he hae _all_ the blasted spark I could dream o'." As he spoke, he was playing with the kitten with one paw. The kitten would get up every time his father flipped him over, without mutter or complaint. "The only reason Buckthorn came close tae being mae heir was 'cause everyone else was either a dingy female, or a half-witted male."

"How do you know he's _the_ one?" Useth snorted, taking the kitten back to her care and holding it firmly against her teats. "He looks like any kitten I've seen." Like Samphire, she thought. Though that kitten was smaller, and noisier. But they're both kittens, aren't they? Why was this one destined for greatness while Sam died before he was _anyone_?

"Because, mae dear, he's also _ye'r_ son." He smiled at her, unaware of how the mere act sickened her to the stomach. She did not need to be reminded of how his son was conceived…

***

Hehlant and the rest of patrol that had accompanied Useth to Nizorn's clutches were given a low status in the warren, enough for them to manage a peaceful living on their own, though without the privilege of having their own burrows. The Owsla was not for them—Hemlock didn't trust them enough for this. Anemone, wishing a better life for Useth, requested to have her live with him instead, under the condition that Hemlock could check on her to make sure she wasn't up to something that would potentially hurt Nizorn. Hemlock denied this, of course, but to Anemone's surprise, he promptly gave Useth her own burrow, and instantly made her Captain of Patrols, in the first division—a status not as high as her old position in Léao-nang, but a good position at any rate.

Useth was suspicious of Hemlock's kindness, and at first refused what he offered. But by and by, he insisted, and finally she gave up and complied. After all, it wasn't like she had anything else to do. If she stayed in Anemone's burrow like he wanted, she'd have ended up being nothing more than a common doe—and she's never been one her entire life. So she lived as Hemlock's Owsla, and felt like a traitor towards Seed the whole time. Only her hatred of him kept these feelings in check.

And then, one night, he came to her burrow and ordered her to crouch for him. She did not—would not, and had ended up clawing his hide open in several new places. He left then, and had she been any other doe she would have found her head torn from her body within less than a day. To her surprise, however, he was back, pleading at first, then threatening when that did not work…

"A son, lass," he thundered, each night he came to her. "All ye' need tae do is give me a son. Bthas is dead, nae longer be offerin' kits. Even 'ers were nae so good. But ye…I guarantee…ye' will receive honours higher than any rabbit in mae warren!"

She wouldn't.

"I'll kill ye' if ye' din'…"

She refused still, and he, suddenly desperate to have this doe that had enamoured him since he met her, could not kill her. So each night he continued to visit her, seeking to have her, sire a son from her, and thus prove greatness not only in himself but in the future of his empire to come.

"Tell me how I din' be able tae win this," he told her one day, when they were purely on business terms and overlooking several regiments on their training schedule. "Tell me Seed hae better rabbits than these be."

She knew Seed did not, and stood silent.

He laughed aloud. "Then ye' will hae tae know t'is half pointless. Or t'least, twice as good." At her confused look, he straightened himself, and broke into a more serious tone. "I hae' Seed. Idiot went near us. Nabbed him then. What! This be the warren ye, lass, be so proud of?"

Before she could reply, he got up on his hindlegs and pointed at the distance with one paw. "See f'er y'erself. T'is Seed, dinnae it?"

She knew him even before Hemlock said it was. Why wouldn't she? It was Seed, the way he sat stiffly against the wind, ears cocked to every direction, not out of caution she knew but out of fear, always, always out of fear. It was him, the way he'd always looked the _hrair_ times she'd sat and watched over him from afar, when they weren't much friends anymore. 

"What are you going to do to him?" she asked. She quickly regretted her sudden show of concern, but it was too late to stop herself.

Hemlock grinned. "Die, o' course. Tortured before, mayhaps. Certainly he'll be tellin' me how tae get to 'is warren an' all other important things first."

"He won't," she said.

"I hae' ways tae make him…"

"He will not say anything, and he will not die."

Hemlock lifted his brows. "Eh? What makes ye' say that, poor, lowly Cap'n?" The sarcasm was thick in his voice.

It was thicker in her reply. "Because I have what you want, and if Seed's more important than that, then by all means—do what you will with him…" Ears bent against the wind, she took a step backwards, her eyes steady.

He licked his lips, but then spat out an instant later. "Ye' shall not drive me like this, lass."

"All you need to do is let him go, safely," she said, mocking him. "He and all the other prisoners you have captured. I guarantee, you will _get_ what you want…"

"I am Chief, lass. T'is not ye'r decision tae decide what's what. I be havin' Seed's life, an' ye, like I wish."

"Will ye have me when I'm dead?" she asked.

She saw something flicker in his temple. "Ye' dinnae," he snarled quietly.

"I'll be in my burrow," she said in response. "Waiting for your decision, _ your highness_." With a brisk nod, she left him, dumbfounded and shaking his head in disbelief.

She did not know, really, what would work, and while waiting had sat down and sharpened her claws. "Either way, I will be dead," she whispered to herself. "It's a matter of time."

He came sometime later, glaze-eyed and panting. "What more do ye' want?" he growled. "I hae let him go. Him an' his blubber-faced companion. Do ye' want tae make sure? Go! Go outside! Ask everyone. Hemlock hae gone crazy. He's let his prisoner go. Ye' hear me?"

She did as he cried, left him fuming and screaming in her burrow while she checked to make sure Seed was no longer in the premises. When she came back, Hemlock was worse. The whole burrow stank of the rabbit's anger.

"He can be anywhere…" she began.

"Kill ye'rself then, if he is. I dinnae be carin' anymore. Now ye'r bargain! He's free—now ye'r mine…"

She closed her eyes, resigned to her fate. Fiercely, forcefully, he took her, and each night he would, and she did not feel anything, did not even feel the pain from the bruises he inflicted on her each time. His anger subsided when she told him she was pregnant. Suddenly, she was a princess in his eyes, but that did not matter to her.

What mattered was that she had done all she could for the one buck she loved.

Even if it meant giving him _all_.

***

"Heir of all I am," Hemlock now said, and then, with pride and flourish in his voice, placed one paw over the kitten and called him _Naru--_Hate. Then, he left the burrow, almost prancing in his frenzy to tell the warren of their new prince.

When his father had gone, Useth brought two paws over him and called him Blackfur.


	49. 

** 49**

"_Kill them. Destroy them all!"_

_ "Kill them. Destroy them all!"_

The orders that Seed and Hemlock would give out during the next four months were the same, exact, leaving on who would have known to ponder who was on the right and wrong. Certainly, neither believed they were the latter. The war between their two warrens continued to rage on, battles after battles, deaths upon deaths.

Despite Hemlock's suddenly more powerful army, the reason for the continuing war was that Léao-nang has forced him into a rather difficult checkmate. He had lost both of his brothers, his left and right paws—Centaury being dead, and Heather being off the weather for what seemed an eternity. Most of what he did, he had to do alone, having few able rabbits to count on when it came to more serious matters as planning—Anemone was the nearest, and of course, the rabbit was too _much_ of a talker to actually get any work done.

On the contrary, Seed's army, despite having a smaller Owsla, was more closely-coordinated, and had sub-leaders of a like to be reckoned with. Quillwort, of course, was responsible for the running of the warren's more difficult problems. Then there was Bracken, known to his troops as 'The Replacement', but still proving more capable than most of Hemlock's own—and Carrot, who had learned a great deal from both Useth and Dewdrops combined. Not to mention Nightshade's Gladiolus, who, despite being a 'stressed-out little pop tart', looked like he could've been Chief, if Nightshade was never chosen.

Not all that happened in these four months were involved with bloodshed, however. For some, like Useth, it was a time of peace, for with Hemlock away from the warren, she was free, in a certain way she had never been before.

***

"Leaves are fallin'."

"Hmmm?"

"Hylie, the leaves are fallin'."

Hy-lien looked up from where she had been licking the top of the kitten's head, and smiled as a broad red leaf floated towards them, landing softly on her back. She had barely time to say anything to this when another, smaller, leaf fell, and another…

"T'is Autumn," she said, to appease the questioned look on the kitten's face. "Din' see it yet mae'self…" And she broke off, her gaze wandering back to the tree whose leaves had been ceased being green the past week or so. There was wonderment in her eyes—soon, she knew, the leaves would all fall, and the ground would be carpeted in red, yellow, and then brown.

"Why it happens?" he asked, stepping on one of her forepaws to gain a better look at another fallen leaf. "The world's dyin'?"

"No, my love," Useth said, coming up from behind them. "It's just getting ready to be reborn again."

"Momma," the kitten said, a faint smile appearing on his gentle features. He waited for her to settle down, then thrust his front paws and head over to her. The other half of his body remained close to Hy-lien.

They lay there for a long time, dozing every now and then, grazing at times, but mostly doing nothing except stare at the clouds rolling by. The air had gone a little colder, but it felt pleasant to the skin. Useth, aware to this all, thought of how she was no longer a young rabbit, and felt a slight tinge of regret.

"Frith, t'is the cursed one! E's finally out!"

The loud clamour woke the three rabbits from their state of euphoria. Turning their heads slightly to the left, they saw a group of gangly kittens—twice as old as Blackfur was—jumping up and down several feet away from them.

"I hear t'is 'e's fault mae _Parli's_ in the war an' all. If t'aint f'er him, there din' be death 'round," one said, loud enough for them to hear.

"Aye, well, e's gonna bring plague tae us or sommat…no good, mae mother says…"

Hy-lien jumped at this. "Talk sense, he's only been born two weeks," she said, pointing at the black kitten.

"_You_ din' know that. For all y'know, e' might hae' been 'ere f'erever…" one of them pressed.

"Hy-lien…" Useth said, softly.

"He's not cursed…"

"Hy-lien," softer still.

Hopelessly, she turned to the older doe. "But he's not…"

"I know." Then, to the kittens, she said simply, "Go back to your playing."

Taken aback by her sudden presence, they each turned, one by one, disappearing into the contours of the yellowing grass.

"Useth," Hy-lien began. "Useth, what about all they said—he shouldn't be hearin'…"

But Useth ignored her, concentrating now on her slightly-trembling son, making him look at her and into her eyes so he would know, and feel, her words. "In your life, you will be a lot of things. Especially _you_, son of Hemlock, kin to his enemies, and prince of an empire to be…yet it does not matter who, or _ what_ says them—never listen. Never listen—let yourself shape who you are, and not words, or dreams, or fantasies."

And wide-eyed, Blackfur could only nod, dwarfed then by the idea that he could ever be _anything_ but what he was, a child, and nothing more.

***

But let children be children, so they say, and Blackfur remained one despite the taunting and the jeering and what soon became the exclusion of him from rabbits his own age. The circumstances surrounding him were unfortunate, as it were. If rabbits did not resent him for the colour of his coat, why, then they would simply resent him for being Hemlock's heir! For though he was Hemlock's only living son, there were his dead ones that had sired more, and those who knew them often than not believed they had the claim to inherit Hemlock's ever-increasing empire.

Buckthorn's son especially thought he had the right to be angry. Everyone knew that when he was alive Hemlock looked upon Buckthorn as his heir. Wouldn't it be correct then to say that Mercury, big and strong and looking more like Hemlock (so they said) each day, should be next in line? That pathetic…black…little wiener he conceived from an outsider deserved less than what he got…

These tensions aside, Blackfur would have gained friends had he not been _him_. Desolate and quiet, the kitten mercifully tagged along Hy-lien, who fawned over him and spoiled him more than his own mother dared to, and when he couldn't, spent time on his own instead. He never sought friends—and thus, gained none. The one other rabbit, apart from his mother and Hy-lien, that he truly knew, was Hahean, and then of course when Hy-lien brought him over she had laughed aloud at the sight of him, and caused him to wonder what it was exactly about him that made people act retarded in his presence.

"That be him?" she said, choking on her spit as she continued her fits of morbid amusement. "Great heir of Hemlock, the black rabbit _Himself_, _ thirf-nroz _get?"

He sat squarely beside Hy-lien, staring at the hefty female with rounded eyes. Hahean did not seem to notice him…she was trying to hold her breath amidst her chortles, and finally a bit tired, he leaned over to Hy-lien and said, "Can we please go? She scares me."

"Oh ye' li'l devil," Hahean said, biting her lip and motioning at him to come to her, which he did, though he turned to Hy-lien every now and then for reassurance. "Hmmm, but ye sure are what they say ye' are. I'm Hahean, o' course. Ye'r half-sister, if that's anythin' tae ye'."

He nodded as she suddenly bowed her head to him, still chuckling. "An' o' course, I'm in ye'r service. Not because ye'r my brother, or the Chief's heir," she said, winking. "Doin' this because o' my dear friend Hylie, eh, Hylie? An' because ye'r tremendously cute."

He was still trying to make sense of her when Hy-lien laughed and pulled him to her in a fierce hug. "Din' worry, mae love," she said. "She scares me too…"

The weeks so passed them by quickly, until the last of Autumn's leaves fell, and the first snow came. It was not as fierce as it had been last year, rather a mild winter, the elders foresaw, and despite the chill in the air and in the ground, life resumed its rather normal pace.

"In two Inlérao," a buck had said, bounding over to Hy-lien as she was picking at some grass from underneath the snow. "In two more months, Hy-lien, Spring will come, and kittens will be born to those who saw love where we stand now."

"An' where do we stand, Marjoram?" she asked, lifting her head slightly. 

"We are of age, Hy-lien, finally."

"In Nur-Lath terms, Marjoram?" She laughed. "Thou art over thy head. But followin' Nizorn's ways, Marjoram, we hae been o' age when we wished it so."

Taken aback by her response, the buck suddenly nuzzled her under the neck. "May it be then, my dear princess…do you wish it so, now…?" His voice was husky.

She looked up—it was night, and the sky was as grey as it could get. She sighed sweetly, wanting to hold him in her arms. "Oh Marjoram…"

"Hylie!"

The two rabbits broke apart at the voice. Marjoram cursed under his breath as the silhouette of a black rabbit, contrasting greatly against the white snow, appeared. "Mayhaps I will be seeing thee in another time," he said, rubbing his head against her.

"Soon," she crooned, and he walked away at last.

"Marjoram," the black rabbit said as he passed him.

"Naru," Marjoram, who was Mercury's best friend, greeted back, and was gone.

"Blackie, why be runnin' so fast?" Hy-lien asked, greeting him with a kiss on the cheek. Indeed, the young rabbit was breathless, his legs frosted with snow and his whiskers drooping wet. He stopped in front of her and slumped down.

"He…ye' remember, right?" he asked.

"Catch ye'r breath. T'is incoherent f'er ye' otherwise." Saying this, she pulled him close to her and started to lick his head.

Immediately to her surprise, he pushed her away. "Hylie," he said, panting still, but with a bit of defiance tingeing his voice. "I'm nae longer a kit."

She looked at him, then threw her head back and laughed aloud. "So ye'r not!" For it was true that Blackfur had grown past the wide-eyed kitten stage. He was half a hair bigger than Hy-lien, who, at her tender nine months, was considered an adult, and had the heft to rival most other bucks his age. "So ye'r not," she repeated, and smiled at him, one that he readily returned.

"So what's this ye'r in such a hurry about?" she asked. 

Blackfur rubbed the snow off his face before replying. "Ye' know him, right?"

"Who?"

"Mae…Hemlock…"

"Thy father."

Her lapse into the Nur-Lath lisp conveyed how serious the matter was. Blackfur rubbed his ears this time, seemed to want to say something, but then stopped himself. 

"What worries ye'?" she asked now, gently.

"I din' think…I hae tae deal with him." He averted his eyes from her and made himself look at the ground instead, snow melting slowly under his thick paws. 

"Oh love, but ye' know ye would, eventually." She nuzzled him with affection. 

"I never made mae'self think, ye' know?" he said. "Like that. They always say—he's not, he din' be mae father, I should nae be…but I saw him, an' I didn't think he saw me 'cause I heard him ask f'er me, he's lookin' f'er me, an' before he saw me I was runnin' an' then…"

His ears suddenly went up, and now, so did Hy-lien's. In a moment or two, they saw a rabbit moving towards them.

The rabbit's hops were slow and almost dejected, but Hy-lien knew him. Quickly, she darted from Blackfur's side to be with this one, and prancing, she kissed him on the head and on the cheeks and on the nose, saying, "Nae' seen ye' f'er so long…so long…"

Heather sighed, closing his eyes and nodding. "I been—busy," he said.

True, she had not seen him since Lang-it left, the time where she had moved on to be with Useth permanently. Many times, she had tried to go back, to be with him for sometime, but he would never be where she was told he would be. After a while, she had given up, knew he did not want to see her and that when he did, he would be there…

"Father," she said, and was pained to see him cringe at the word.

"I was, when she was ye'r mother," he whispered, lovingly stroking her face with his nose. "Without her, I…I'm nothin'."

Blackfur approached them, confused. He had been told of Heather, but only as his uncle, and his father's brother and Captain. He did not know that this rabbit was him, or indeed, that Heather had raised Hy-lien as his own daughter. But he knew the rabbit's intentions, and why he showed up at all. "He calls f'er me," he said simply.

Letting go of Hy-lien, Heather lowered his head to lick Blackfur's jaw. "Prince, so he does."

***

Meeting Hemlock for the first time terrified Blackfur beyond his wits, though he acted his usual self, calm and composed even as he laid eyes on the hefty dark rabbit for the second time. Hemlock had quickly gone to him and held him in a fierce hug, saying, "Prouder of anythin' else, I hae never been."

They were in a field, surrounded by what seemed like the entire warren. Blackfur felt his heart shrivel at the sight of all these rabbits—and more still, when he saw loathing in most of their eyes. Instinctively—for he was still young enough—he sat closer to Hemlock. 

"I din' take too much o' ye'r time," Hemlock was saying to the warren. "An' so I will give ye' the news I hope ye so much desired. T'is not yet done, but we're almost there. I am sure, so sure now, o' victory with our enemy."

The rabbits about him smiled and nodded, and several began to ask questions all at once. Hemlock, who had never been too formal, folded himself neatly against the grass and answered each rabbit as best as he could. There was a friendly, almost happy, air about him, but this discomfited Blackfur more than it reassured him. He fidgeted where he sat, and began to look around, until he felt a heavy paw on his shoulder.

"Somethin' wrong, son?" It was Hemlock. The barrage of questions had, as quickly as they had come, stopped, and now the big rabbit could focus all attentions onto him.

He shook his head. "T'is much fine," he replied. "Only the crowd, I din' like them."

"Och, t'is still Nizorn. Ye'r home. Ye' should love those here. Din' like the other warrens if ye' wish, but Nizorn's Nizorn, mae blood an' bone, as ye are." There was a twinkle in his eye as he said this.

"Then ye' din be denyin' ye'r other blood an' bone?" a sharp female voice sounded.

Blackfur felt his whiskers tremble. Standing now, close to them—so close he could feel her breath against his fur—was Teasel. He knew her, well, from the many times she had incessantly followed his behind and nagged him about being Hemlock's son. What she had to say now, he had heard _hrair_ times in the past. He shook his head and sighed. Behind her, as always, was her son, Mercury.

"Oh?" was all Hemlock said.

"This is Mercury," Teasel replied with flourish, bowing low and stepping aside to fully reveal her son. He was a week or two older than Blackfur, and had height where Blackfur had heft. Lanky, if anything, he cut an impressive sight for still being bigger than most his age.

"T'is a pleasure tae meet ye, mae grandfather," Mercury said.

Blackfur coughed to stop himself from laughing, and sorely regretted it as a big ball of spit got lodged in his throat. It was a good thing Hemlock did not notice—or if he did, he failed to do anything about it. Respectfully, he stepped back an inch.

"Buckthorn's son, if I'm not bein' mistaken," Hemlock said. "T'is good tae meet ye' too."

"Aye, grandfather. I am Buckthorn's son."

"No one else of ye'r litter?" he asked, turning now to Teasel.

"Nae, all are dead."

"Ah. Well, ye' have grown strong an' tall f'er such a rabbit," Hemlock said. "I'm pleased. Mae line is doin' well, as I see it. Come back tae me in a season, lad, an' I will give ye' a high position in the Owsla."

There was a long silence. Blackfur could see Teasel fidgeting, and realized she was scared of Hemlock. The words she had thrown carelessly at him won't hit her Chief, that was for sure. In fact, it was Mercury who broke it, splaying his legs suddenly in a fit of rage and crying, "That's it?"

Hemlock's relaxed, happy gaze disappeared. Now his eyes widened, and stared long and hard at the becoming youngster. Finally, he said, "Repeat ye'r words."

"I said, that is it?" Mercury replied, his voice seething with rage. 

"Ye din' be happy with such things?"

"Ye' said so ye'rself. I am Buckthorn's son. Buckthorn, ye'r heir before…"

"My heir is Naru," Hemlock said. "Buckthorn hae been dead before ye' were born."

"T'is my right tae be heir! Ye din'…ye can nae suddenly take back what ye' hae given mae father."

"Ye'r dead father."

"He din' even be o' Nizorn blood! E's half! I'm purer, mae father was ye'r heir!"

"Silence!" Hemlock stamped his feet against the ground, his eyes blazing. Now, Teasel had fallen back, muttering under her breath. Only Mercury looked unafraid. He had never seen the things Hemlock was capable of doing—he had no need to.

With one swift motion, Hemlock struck him hard across the face.

"Naru is my heir," he said, motioning now to Blackfur, who stood rigid a few feet away, lest more attention befall him. "That, I hae decided before he was born. Knowin' his mother's strength, an' mine, I knew his…an' I am not disappointed, from what I heard, an' what I seen. F'er the simple reason that ye' were Buckthorn's son, am I sparin' ye…but consider ye'rself forgotten in mae eyes. Leave, before I change mae mind."

His voice was thundering through the fields. All but those involved had left, some afraid of his wrath, most afraid of his madness. 

"Come, son," Teasel said, nudging Mercury. But grudgingly, the young buck pushed her away, and glared at Hemlock with a ferocity that he could only have inherited from him.

"I, on the other hand, will nae forget," he said, his cheek burning with his hot blood. And then, ignoring his mother's protests, he stomped off in another direction.

Blackfur, watching Hemlock's quick rising to anger, felt a stirring in his stomach. Is this what he was in for, the rest of his life…?

***

The feeling of dread did not rise from him, even when Hemlock led him back to Useth's burrow, where his mother and Hy-lien lay waiting. When they entered, Blackfur saw his father cast Hy-lien a black look, before sitting down.

"Ye' know, very well, that I din' come far from mae job tae do little necessities," he said. "Visitin' Naru is not just what I hae in mind."

"I see," Useth said. Blackfur, sensing the distraught behind the solid image she cast, ached to be by her side, but felt that leaving Hemlock's was not a good idea.

"I will be leavin' in two days. Blackfur is comin' with me, tae start his lessons in rulin' after I am gone."

"But he's too…" Hy-lien broke in.

"What?" Hemlock roared, turning to her angrily. "He's too what?"

"Young…" Hy-lien finished.

"Some Nizorners hae sired litters at his age."

Dispairingly, Hy-lien turned to Useth. To her amazement, the doe sat still, jaw held firm. There would be no protests from her—that she realized. She cursed under her breath, then said, "At least let his mother come wi' him."

"She din' be. She be stayin' here," Hemlock growled.

"At least let me!" she cried, stepping forward now. She could not bear the thought of Blackfur leaving them anytime soon…and she knew, with great intensity, that once he left he would never be the same, sweet, gentle rabbit he was now. "Ye din' be able tae take care o' him all the time. Let me!"

"I hae reasons f'er lettin' his mother stay here," Hemlock said, his voice a pitch higher, his lips pulled back in an effectual snarl. "Ye', on the other hand, can go anywhere. But nae near mae son. Nae where near mae son."

The words were spoken factually—and it took sometime for the meaning to descend upon the three rabbits. When it did, Blackfur lifted his head in protest, but Hemlock pushed him away before he could make any sound. "T'is time we be goin'. Ye hae lots tae learn."

"Hemlock," Useth said, finally lifting her head. "She is his greatest friend. It isn't right to separate them."

"Ye'r meddlin' with my daughter, I can deal with," Hemlock snarled, directing his answer to Hy-lien. "Ye'r a nuisance tae me, frankly. Ye'r nae mae brother's child, an' yet ye' can turn his head away from me better than with his own children. Aye, ye' know, o' course, din' ye? Ye were ne'er his, nor that forsaken grey doe's."

She did, and nodded, unmoved by his words.

"Och, ye'r a child, but ye'r influence—t'is unnervin'. Stay away from mae family. Best of all, lass—stay away from mae _son_. I din' realize ye were raisin' him until now—t'is when I found out that I decided tae take him away even when he is…as ye' put it—young, too young." He lifted one paw, as if to warn her away. "I forbid ye' to e'er see, approach, or be wi' him again. Naru, come."

With that, he turned and walked away. Blackfur held his jaw and beseechingly looked back at his mother and Hy-lien. He was young, and could not think of anything to say.

"Go," his mother said.

He was rooted to the spot, unable to obey. His blood ran cold. The thoughts in his head drifted in and out like butterflies.

"Go," she repeated.

He took one step…and then, she was on him, holding him close to her, tightly, tighter even, whispering to him in a way a desperate mother only could. "My son, I love you, I love you, I love you…" Words that would last him a lifetime. "I love you, I love you, I love you…" Feelings that he would treasure forever. And then Hemlock was there, pushing, pulling him away. The last he saw of her mother, she was still whispering to him as if he were there, so he would know, how much, oh truly, how much…

When they were gone, Hy-lien crept beside her, nuzzling her neck. She said nothing. Words would not help. And Useth, who was her mother, too, shook her head, and wept for the son she knew she had lost for good.

***

Hy-lien grazed alone, by the edge of the field which was bare except for a few patches of grass the size of a paw. She did not like this spot—nobody did, but she went here anyway, because it reminded her of Blackfur. She remembered, that one time, when the other kittens were tormenting him off his food—he had asked her to bring him here. She did, questioning him only when they were there, and she remembered his exact words…

"There's so little grass 'ere, see, so that way, the little I eat become important tae me, cause there's only so few…an' they can hae' all the grass they want there, I hae special grass 'ere."

She sighed, giving off a little laughter at the memory. She remembered it vividly, and could in fact see him standing there, over where he stood at that time, except he was a little bigger than what he used to be…

"Blackfur!" she said, in surprise. Then, in a lower voice, "Ye'r not allowed…tae see me."

"We're leavin'," he said. He pointed at the sky—it was dark, already, and she hasn't even noticed. She gave another laugh at this.

"Ah. Come tae say goodbyes?" She reached out her paw, as if to touch him, and then Hemlock's words came to her and she jerked back. "Goodbye," she said instead, laughing a bit and lowering her head in a bow. "Highness."

She suddenly felt his fur against her nose—it was he who touched her now, his neck entwined against hers. His heart beat against hers, wildly, in a way that his calmness had never allowed it to beat before.

"I'm leavin," he repeated, allowing her to speak no words. "An' I wanted to know—tell…say this. I, I love ye'."

"What?" she gasped, drawing back and staring at him in shock. "Ye'r a kitten…"

"I'm a buck."

"_My_ kitten!" she said aloud. "Blackfur, ye'r almost mae brother…!"

"An' a lot o' good that did me," he said. He shook his head, a smile on his lips. "I knew…ye' would say this…"

"Blackfur, please. Din' ruin us, Blackfur. Ye'r mae best friend and the sibling I ne'er hae, an'…din' ruin this, please, Blackfur…" she pleaded. "Ye'r young, there are other does…an' oh Frith, how can ye' think o' me this way?"

"I din' want tae," he replied, his eyes downcast. "Ye' think…I din' want tae. But I always hae. I always knew I ne'er…I ne'er looked at any doe, an'…ye' know…"

"But we always thought ye' were…" And she burst out laughing again, only this was ironic, and not at all happy. "Oh Blackie, Blackie, mae brother…"

"Din' say that, please," he said. This time, he was the one pleading. He dropped down in front of her, on all paws. "Please, din' say that. I'm leavin'. Mae father din' want me tae see ye' again. Who knows—who knows…if I will…? I'm scared. I din' know what's in mae future. Whatever t'is, I din' be wantin' it…I only want, ye'…ye' know…"

"Ye'r a child," she said, shaking her head, holding him back. "An' ye know nothin' o' what ye' want."

"I love ye'…"

"Ye din' know love."

"An' do ye?" he asked. His tone rose higher—the flicker of impatience, of anger, which he would have only gotten from his father—appeared now. It was a side of him she had never seen before. "Do ye' know? Oh Hy-lien—for that is ye'r name, din' it? I love ye'. I always knew it, I ne'er questioned it. Aye, I loved ye as a child, but now that love hae grown, an' I love ye' more than Marjoram do. For din' ye' know, he hae always made me jealous since he showed attention to ye'? I love ye'. T'is all I know. T'is all I e'er want tae know."

He stopped his ranting and looked at her, his eyes bright against the night sky. "Tell me ye' love me, too," he said softly. "If only f'er tonight. If only so I would ne'er be lonely f'er the rest of mae life, f'er I would love no one the way I love ye'."

So she did, holding him close to her, her brother dead now, leaving a strange buck in his place, and he repeated those words and so did she, and they would have done more but the cries of Hemlock's Owsla rang in the air and they both knew that he had to leave. Kissing her tenderly, he departed, and she repeated those words even as she realized he could no longer hear her…

For she did—and who is to say love can be anything but what we make it to be? Hy-lien loved Blackfur, as did he love her, but the night was dark and Hemlock, in his bloodlust, had risen once more and was ready to continue the revenge he so long sought for.


	50. 

** 50**

Somehow, Hy-lien knew that Blackfur's departure meant that nothing would be normal again. She did not exactly figure out what led her to this belief, but then, the wind was colder, _flay_ more meagre, and the snow which she had thought to be so beautiful before did nothing now but sting her eyes. Hahean, her best friend, became unknown to her—Marjoram, on his next few visits, was sorely rejected—and her father Heather no longer showed his face.

Her restlessness was shared by Useth, though the doe did not show it. If they had both led remote lives while raising Blackfur, now they were isolated, keeping their contacts with the outside world limited to their few neighbours and the rabbits that dared visit them. It was a sorry life, but it was not to last very long.

One day, Useth got up, and without saying a word, left the warren. No one tried to stop her—she was queen, if no one cared for her that way, and Hemlock's wrath was sure to be upon any who tried to oppose her. Hy-lien faithfully followed behind, limiting her questions to none. It was exactly thirteen days after Blackfur left.

Blackfur's arrival to Hristhain was greeted with cheers. In contrast to the loathing Nizorn had felt for him, Hristhain regarded him with a passion reserved for royalty. They have heard much of Blackfur from Hemlock, and his Owsla, who hung onto his every word and made up the majority of Hristhain's population, raced against each other to be the first to gain Blackfur's attentions. Even those who weren't remotely suck-ups found Blackfur a pleasing change to their normal routine—here was a youngster who carried himself well though he knew nothing, wasn't too eager to join the bloodletting (and seemed to know nothing of it), and at the same time, had an impressive colour to boot. 

"Welcome to t'humble Hristhain," a rabbit said as Hemlock, Blackfur, and their party crossed the threshold of the warren's burrow-system. 

"Och, Feverfew. Just the rabbit I be wantin'." Hemlock grinned as the rabbit made a bow in front of them. "Providin' Naru din be too tired…?"

Blackfur shook his head.

"Then please, take him around the warren. I be seein' ye in the afternoon then, mae son." Nodding to a group of rabbits that have just arrived to greet him, he left them.

"Very, very well then," Feverfew said as he and Blackfur were left to themselves. "Wh't would you want t'see first? P'rhaps t'echo-tunnel…?"

"Echo-tunnel?" Blackfur asked.

To answer his question, Feverfew diligently led him down the adjoining run. They turned right and went a long way before they ended up in what may have been the strangest burrow Blackfur has ever seen in his life. The entrance was small, about the size of a rabbit, and inside one could see nothing save a thick, almost harrowing sort of darkness. 

"What is this?" Blackfur asked, cocking his head at Feverfew.

"Ti's something we Hristhainers h'been proud of f'generations. T'is t'work of our fathers' fathers' fathers…t'rabbits we don't r'member, but love well."

"I din' understand. What's it for?"

Feverfew's brows seemed to furrow for a bit, as if he was contemplating something quite important. Then, with a firm nod, he pushed Blackfur aside and stood right in front of the tunnel-entrance. Then he sang.

_ The earth is soft in m'paws._

_ Ah, I say, t'is good f'diggin'._

_ So I dig, t'make a home f'my family,_

_ An' t'seasons t'will come,_

_ An' t'seasons t'will go,_

_ Frith will shine, an' rain, t'will flow,_

_ An' t'flowers, t'will bloom, an' the wind'll blow,_

_ Alive, I am, an happy t'be so._

His voice was deep yet it rang through the tunnels with vibrancy. His face brightened from the frown he wore when he first greeted Blackfur, and he raised his head in joy, as if to say, "Now hear, now hear…"

Confused, Blackfur lifted his head too. And then he heard it.

It was the same song, in Feverfew's own voice, except it was now louder, so loud that Blackfur's heart began to thump faster as if it sought to measure up to the rhythm with its own beating. Without knowing it, he gave a small shout, and began to run down the path they had taken to the burrow, following the song as it floated through the air and into the system beyond.

When he got to the end, he gave a gasp of disbelief. The song was repeating itself as it winded through the tunnels and runs and burrows. Every rabbit underground could hear it, and those whose hearts were full of love cried out in joy at its splendour.

Then, everything was replaced with a ghostly silence, and Blackfur could only stand in a corner and gape at what he had just witnessed. After a bit, he heard Feverfew by his shoulder, and turned to the rabbit in shock. "What is this?" he asked. "This…what ye' did…"

"F'my people," he said. "Because t'is all we have left."

Blackfur cocked his head in confusion.

"We're Hristhain," he continued. "The diggers, some warrens call us. D'y'know, our burrows run deep, an' yet no water will e'er overflow them? An' many a man h'come, an' tried t'destroy us, but they haven't, not yet. D'you know, prince? An' then, somewhere along t'line, we forgot. We forgot why. We shunned the entire world, didn't allow others t'visit us, b'cause we wanted t'keep this warren—this great achievement o'ours…safe, away from the rest o'em. We w'selfish."

He gave a deep sigh. "T'been like that, all my adult life. Y'know? An' we were hostile, we attacked most, an' we weren't polite t'those we don't. Now your father come, an' everything we've lost, we lost further. We're not allowed t'leave our burrows anymore. We're not allowed t'dig, or t'meet up with friends, not t' graze when we want t', not t'sing…"

"If ye'r not allowed tae sing, then why…?" Blackfur asked.

Feverfew closed his eyes and sat down. "I thought, that if I would sacrifice m'self, maybe, maybe they'd r'member their pride, fight back against your father, restore their pride, an' love, like we used t', like we used t'…" He turned to Blackfur. "Y'undestand, don't you? _You_ do. I seen it in y'r eyes."

Blackfur, who did now, slowly nodded. At the same time, he heard rabbits nearby, and a quick shout of, "Sir, we've found him!" In the blink of an eye, Feverfew was on the ground, held by stronger rabbits, and then he was being dragged across the ground and away, away from the tunnel and his hope for the whole warren…

"The fool," Hemlock said, beside Blackfur all at once. "Ye, an' ye! Collapse this tunnel! T'is nae good, tae give them false hope. Tae make our kingdom prosper, we need unity, an' t'is nae good when every blasted warren wants tae have their own way."

Blackfur nodded and followed his father away from the run. The two officers he had called to began to dig at the sides of the entrance, sealing it shut a few minutes after.

"Punish any rabbit tae be found in this area," Hemlock muttered under his breath. To Blackfur, he said, "Funny, how somethin' ye' slave f'er an' work hard f'er can be ruined in such a short time. Come, I'll be tourin' ye' around here myself."

When his father was some distance away, Blackfur turned to the sealed entrance, and marked the edge with several deep scratches. "I'll be back," he muttered under his breath. "When I am Ruler, an' know more than I do now…"

The splendour and glory of Blackfur's princehood ended abruptly. Now, he felt like he was nothing more than the lowest of Owsla…immersed into the most degrading, tiresome, and pointless of tasks. Nothing he did killed him, true, but they numbed his senses and made him feel silly, to the point that he wished Mercury would stomp right then and there, take his head, and proclaim himself the true prince of Hemlock's kingdom…

Every dawn, for instance, he was made to swim halfway through the _freezing_ lake, stand on top of a little lagoon of dead trees, stare at the direction where Léao-nang stood, and proclaim himself future ruler of its realm. Then, before he had caught his breath properly, he had to swim all the way back, shivering, and say that he if only to fall Léao-nang, he would do _this_ a thousand times…

…only he wouldn't…

And then he would eat. Quickly. Because he only had several minutes to do so. And then, this time around, he was made to claw apart a piece of rotten wood, then claw apart a bush, then claw apart some dead carcass, then claw apart at the snow until his paws felt like needles. He was sure they made him claw apart a mushroom, once. And the point to it? He didn't bother to ask. He was sure it was as meaningless as the lice that infested his fur…and just as weird, in any case.

So this went on until one night, as he staggered outside for his fu-Inlé meal, breathless and bloody and muscle-sore from foot to tongue, he heard a long, drawn-out call. At first, he did not mind it—enough strange things went around the place that if a pink, neon rabbit went up to him and claimed that it was his _true_ father, he would have nodded calmly and accepted it like anything. But then, while he chewed on the grass, barely tasting it, he saw from the corner of his eyes a whole army of rabbits emerge. On its head was Hemlock.

He got up and painfully dragged himself nearer, to hear what was to be heard. As it turned out, Hemlock was preparing another of his short, stabbing speeches. Something about ruling and destruction to the enemy and Centaury's good name be preserved. Blackfur sat down and rubbed his ear, clueless to all the hullabaloo, and would have remained so if Hemlock, upon ending his speech, had not turned to him and looked him straight in the eye.

"I will carve you your empire," his gaze said, "For you," while Blackfur thought, "You're crazy, I would love you if you weren't…"

Without another word, Hemlock left, and so did the whole army, so vast that a forest would not have been able to conceal them all. And Blackfur, going back to his long-awaited dinner, remembered that it was thirteen days after he had left Nur-Lath.

Heather led the first wave in his full glory. The madness in his eyes mirrored that of his brother…if not for the other's bulk, they would have looked the same, would have _been_ the same. In his element, a true Captain and fighter rivalling the greatest any warren has ever known, he cut down through Seed's rabbits like a hawk amongst prey. 

Quillwort, doing the same for Seed, held on, but at last, the iron grip on the checkmate that he and his Owsla held gave way. They were few, and Nizorn was plenty. Two, three days after Hemlock decided to attack them with full force, Seed was found bending in horror over the news the Owsla brought for him.

"We have a handful left," Bracken was coughing out. "A quarter of what we used to have."

"Run away," Quillwort muttered. His eyes were closed. "We have no other choice."

"We're surrounded," Bracken huffed. "I don't see how…"

"We have to run away," Quillwort insisted.

"Again?" Seed shook his head. He was quiet for a few seconds, and then looked up. There was an odd gleam in his eye—one which Quillwort did not like, not for one second. He remembered seeing the same gleam when Seed had slunk back into his life and told him he had a plan to get the rabbits across the lake. 

"Promote each Owsla to higher officer status. Send the rest. Sharpen their claws and teeth, and have them fight under the Owsla."

Stunned, Quillwort sat back to rethink Seed's statement. Not surprisingly, no matter how many times he did this, he still got the same meaning.

"Excuse me?"

"Send the other rabbits to fight."

"_Just the bucks?"_ Quillwort asked, gritting his teeth together.

"_Including the does_," Seed replied.

For one minute, Quillwort was prepared to cut Seed down. But he couldn't. He had found Seed no longer a young, weak rabbit whose decisions were random and badly-made. Though he thought this one just as bad, he knew, too, that the Chief had a reason for it.

"Have you asked Nightshade?" Quillwort sighed.

"He gave me his title," was all Seed's reply was. "I am Chief."

Reluctantly bowing his head, Quillwort went off to equip the remaining rabbits in the warren.

"What is he doing? What the _blazes_ is he doing?" Lang-it cried. She had seen the Owsla forcibly drag a buck from the burrow next to hers, a buck with a doe and kittens, to be sent, apparently, to the battlefield. Asking the officers only got her with one reply—"Chief's orders."

Angry, she thundered towards Seed's burrow, only to get an answer of the same calibre. "We have to fight, Lang-it. What's to be done is to be done. Now go home."

She screamed at him then. Threatened to bodily throw him out of the warren and dunk his head under the lake until he came to his senses. And she would have done more violent things had he not suddenly looked at her and she realized, with graveness, that he was no longer a kitten.

_ I'm back where I started_, she thought. _Seed. Brother, brother, oh…the only family I have…_

_ This, is it, isn't it? _

_ I've dreamt, of someday, crossing your path again, and being happy again, like we used to, oh, running through the fields and eating without a care in the world…but that…that's only for kittens, isn't it? We've grown up, haven't we? What, with Heather, and our titles, and your Chiefhood, and the responsibilities and lives we have to face…_

_ This is it. The past is over, we can never return to that life, nor a better one. We can only make good of what we have…_

Though his eyes spoke of madness, she swallowed her fears and kissed him gently on the cheek. Then, without turning back, she hopped away.

Seed watched her and blinked. Behind him, though he could not hear it, came a harsh whisper.

_ "Timothy…remember, the revenge I said I'd bring…? Oh, Timothy, fool, now you can do nothing, and your son and his kin are weaker than you ever were…"_


	51. Author's Note

To my dearest readers (if there were any, in the first place),

As you may have probably noticed, and forgotten in a while, Chronicles of a Rah II: Auburn Leaves of Autumn has not been updated lately. You can probably blame my laziness, and schoolwork, but that's not entirely the case. For one thing, although I have laid down the remaining important plot details and not ACTUALLY stuck on the story at any point, I got a little--well, bored, if you might say. There's only so much about rabbits...and to finish a novel on 'epic' proportions concerning them (without anything added--and I just realized that CoaR II, put on young adult paperback, would span over 400 pages)...well, it dragged me down to the bottom of a rather difficult-to-hop-out-of pit. But I digress. I could've easily climbed up, since I do love this series, it being the work I'm most proud of recently.

However, something else has been occupying my time lately. After nearly 4 years of slaving over the series, I've finally stumbled upon something you might as well consider 'original' work. In other words, I'm busy on a project which I'm hoping to get published in the near future. Now, this doesn't mean I love THIS one more than I love CoaR, but while the creative energy's there, it's my first priority. 

Hmm...of course that's all kind of redundant since I'm sure nobody has actually read this novel till the near end--believe me, it's confusing for me too. But in any case, I have no regrets. CoaR II is sort of my guru. It helped me find my own voice, develop my own style, and in the end learn everything I know of writing till now. It also helped me on plotbuilding, which probably has been my worse problem in the past. In other words, I owe it a lot more than I give it credit for. So really, perhaps someday, when I have time, maybe if someone thinks I should, I'll finish it. For now, with Timothy, Ghost, Seed, Useth, and the rest of them as my guides, I will continue on my own journey. Wish me luck.

-Kristine Solano, 'ghostlyrabbit'


End file.
